


Methods of Persuasion

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old West, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old enemy get his revenge on Chris and Vin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Methods of Persuasion

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Seven Card Stud #13. This is the slash version of the M7 gen story "Tight Spot."
> 
> This story is a recycle of the Soldier of Fortune, Inc. episode "Tight Spot."

**Four Corners**

**Thursday afternoon**

 

          Josiah rode slowly into town, his gaze sweeping over the people and the buildings, assuring himself that nothing out of the ordinary had happened since he'd left town on Monday.  Chris and Vin had been there, so it was likely they had taken care of anything that might have come up since then, but he still felt a little anxious for some reason.

Maybe it was because Chris had still been getting over that fever, although he had seemed fine, if still a mite weak, when he'd left on Monday…

Josiah shook his head, silently chiding himself over his worry.  Things had been relatively quiet the past few months, the arrival of increasing numbers of settlers helping to drive off more of the proverbial "bad elements."

Besides, Vin had been healthy, and Larabee close enough as to scare off all but the worse of the ruffians.  There was no reason for the nagging concern that refused to leave him.

Glancing around again, he allowed himself a small smile as he nodded a greeting to some of the passersby.  Yep, the town was definitely growing, and it gave him a warm feeling to know he'd had a small part in letting that happen.  It was a balm to his soul, which wasn't nearly as weary as it had once been.  But then, he knew _that_ had more to do with the men who had become his brothers than it did with the town itself, but that helped some, too.

          He stopped at the livery, turning the care of his weary gelding over to Tiny, who welcomed him back with a big smile and a friendly handshake.  Once that was done, Josiah headed straight to the saloon to get a drink and something to eat.  Having ridden nearly all day, he was hungry and thirsty, not to mention tired.

          Walking into the dimly lit building, he paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust, then glanced around, immediately spotting Nathan at one of the tables.  The healer was working on one of Inez's tasty burritos.

His mouth already watering, Josiah walked over and took a seat across from his friend, asking curiously, "So, boy or girl?"

          Nathan grinned, his eyes dancing with contentment.  "Both."

          "Twins?" Josiah asked, his own eyes rounding a little with surprise.  "But she's such a tiny little thing…"

          The healer nodded.  "Yep, she sure is, but all three of 'em are just fine.  Babies are a bit on the small side, but she's got milk for 'em both, so they ought to put some weight on right quick.  And, before ya ask, Mrs. Cranmer's doin' fine, too.  Can't say the same 'bout Mr. Cranmer, though."

"Oh?" Josiah asked, knowing it couldn't be anything serious or Nathan would still be out at the homestead.

"Yeah…  He's got a knot on the back of his head the size of an egg…"  Nathan grinned.  "Fainted dead away, soon as he saw there was two of 'em."

          That put a toothy grin on the former priest's face and he chuckled delightedly – twins…  That would be fun…  "Well, ol' Jason never did take to surprises too well…  But that's good news, Nathan, real good news."

          Nathan nodded, then asked quietly, "And your sister?"

          "Over her fever," Josiah told him with a nod.  He'd been more than a little scared for her when he'd first gotten to Vista City, but she'd pulled through, even experiencing a brief period of lucidness just after the fever broke.  It had meant a lot to him, to be able to talk to her then, to tell her how much he loved her.  And she'd smiled at him, blinking back tears, telling him she'd always known that, even when she hadn't known anything else.

          The healer nodded, looking genuinely happy for the older man.  "That's good news, too, Josiah."

          Inez spotted Josiah as she came out of the kitchen and she smiled a welcome at him.  He pointed at Nathan's plate and her smile widened.  She stepped back into the kitchen to make him one, as well.

          "The others get back?" Josiah asked as he waited for his meal.

          Nathan chewed and swallowed before he answered.  "Ezra, Buck and JD got in yesterday afternoon," he told him.  "Chris and Vin are still gone."

          Josiah scowled.  "Chris and Vin are gone?"

          Nathan nodded.  "Yeah, ya know what they're doin'?"

          Josiah shook his head.  "Left 'em here to keep an eye on things after I got the wire from the sisters on Monday morning; I was gone by mid-morning, though.  They didn't have any plans to leave – just the opposite, in fact."

          Nathan frowned.  "I got back yesterday 'bout this time, and they was gone.  Saw Mary, and she said they'd left just after noon on Monday.  Said she didn't know why, either."

          Josiah shook his head and shrugged.  "I have no idea what they'd be doing.  You ask around?" he questioned as Inez arrived with his dinner and a mug of beer.

"Nope," Nathan replied, "but I reckon we'd better."

"Just as soon as I eat," Josiah added.  "I'm starved."

Nathan nodded his understanding.  Whatever was going on, it could keep for a few more minutes – it wouldn't take the big man much longer than that to make short work of his meal.

Josiah took a big bite, his eyes closing as he chewed, a low, soft moan escaping him.  Nathan chuckled, enjoying the other man's obvious pleasure.  "Yep," he said, "she sure makes 'em tasty, don't she?"

"Heavenly," the former preacher agreed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday morning, early**

 

          The five peacekeepers had just finished eating breakfast when they heard the telltale sounds of a stagecoach rolling down the main street of town.

          Buck was the first one to look up, frowning.  "Ain't they runnin' a mite early?"

          "About five hours, yes," Ezra acknowledged, adding, "Quite unusual, actually – unless, of course, this was yesterday's stage arriving late, as usual."  He grinned, slightly amused by his own wit.

          The others grinned, except for their young sheriff.

          "Think I better go over and see what's goin' on," JD said, wiping his mouth with his napkin and standing.  With Chris and Vin missing, the younger man was on edge.

"They'll come get us if there's a reason," Buck told him.

JD hesitated for a moment, but his own curiosity got the better of him and he started for the batwing doors.  Before he could reach them, however, they were shoved open and Judge Orin Travis stepped into the saloon.  His gaze fell on JD first, then he looked past the young sheriff to the other men who were still seated at the table.  "Gentlemen," he greeted them, walking over to the table to join them.  JD trailed him back, slipping back into his seat, determined to finish off the last two biscuits, if possible.

          "Mornin', Judge," Buck greeted the older man, gesturing for him to take one of the two empty seats at the table – places that had been saved in case Chris and Vin had showed up to join them.

          "What brings you to—?" Ezra began.

          "Chris and Vin have been captured," Travis stated without preamble.

          "Captured?" Josiah repeated, setting his knife and fork down.  "By whom?"

          Travis heaved a long sigh and glanced around the saloon to make sure they were alone and couldn't be overheard.  When he was sure they were, he took one of the two empty seats at the table and said quietly, "On Monday I asked Chris and Vin to meet someone in Mesa Ridge and escort them to Bent Copper."

"Why?" JD asked.

Travis shot the boy a hard look, but then relented and said, "Ever since that incident with Stutz, I, and a few others, have been keeping our eyes on Governor Hopewell.  The depth of the corruption the man's involved with is nothing short of astounding.  I've been working with a special commission, gathering evidence that can be used to remove Hopewell from the governorship and consign him to Yuma Prison – for life."

          "Must be some evidence," Buck replied, looking rightfully impressed.

          Travis nodded.  "I asked Chris and Vin to deliver the last, most important witness to Bent Copper.  When they didn't arrive on Wednesday morning, as we had expected, I sent out some wires.  They were captured.  Evidently, Hopewell's uncovered what we're doing and he's trying to stop us, although I think it's already too late for that."

          "Do you know where they are?"

          "I do," Travis replied with a single nod.  "They're being held at Fort Gila."

"A military post?" Buck questioned, looking more worried by the moment.

Travis nodded.  "The fort commander, Colonel Jacob Milton, is a longtime friend of Hopewell's, and he's more than likely aware of our Governor's dealings.  He might even have played a part of some of them."

          "Jacob Milton…" Buck echoed, his brow furrowing with concentration.  "Where have I heard that name before?"

          "I remember a General Jacob Milton being tried for the murder of a lot of Indians up in Oregon Territory," Josiah supplied.  "If I recall, it was a group of Blackfeet he'd found camped along the Snake River between Fort Bosie and Fort Hall.  He ordered his soldiers to kill them all…  It was a massacre."

          Travis nodded again.  "You remember correctly, Mr. Sanchez.  Milton claimed the Indians were preparing to ambush his troops, who were transporting supplies from Fort Hall to Fort Bosie."

          "But it wasn't true?" JD asked, a little confused about what all this had to do with Chris and Vin going missing.

          "The dead turned out to be mostly women and children," the judge explained.

"And old men," Josiah added, his voice dropping as he added, "The women were violated; some of the children as well.  And the old men were tortured before they were killed.  It was brutal… evil."

          Travis nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval.  "Milton was stripped of his command at Fort Hall and sent back to Washington for a military trial.  Hopewell was the young lawyer who defended him.  When it was over, Milton married Hopewell's eldest sister."

"Why isn't he in prison?" Nathan asked, the revulsion he felt clear in his expression.

Travis shook his head.  "He was convicted on lesser charges, thanks to Hopewell's efforts.  He was reduced in rank to colonel and sent back to the West to fight against the Comanche."

          "He's a butcher," Josiah stated.  "He should have been convicted for the atrocities he committed.  If Chris and Vin are in his hands—"

          "Yes, Mr. Sanchez, I couldn't agree with you more, but, unfortunately, that's not the way it happened.  However, I want them out of there," Travis said.  "As you know, I have no authority over the Army, so I can't help you do this… officially, in any case."

          The others nodded their understanding.

"Don't you worry, Judge," Buck assured the man, "if they're in Fort Gila, we'll get 'em out – one way or the other."

"I'm counting on it.  I need to find out what happened to the witness they were escorting."

Nathan looked a little upset about that.  "That more important to you than Chris and Vin?"

"Of course not," Travis snapped back.  "But it's important that the witness talk to the commission.  It will seal Hopewell's fate."

The peacekeepers nodded their understanding.

"How soon can you be ready to leave?" Travis asked them.

"Give us an hour," Buck replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Arizona Territory**

**Late Tuesday night**

 

A detachment of soldiers arrived at the fort, stopping outside the closed gate.  Someone inside lifted the iron rod that secured the main entrance to the compound and two privates swung open the gates, allowing the men to ride in, leading two black geldings with riders.

Chris and Vin both sat slumped on their horses, bound, gagged and blindfolded.

Once the horses came to a stop, more soldiers came out to meet the detachment.  Some of the men untied the prisoners and dragged the two peacekeepers off their horses.  At an order from their commander, they began to beat and kick them until the two men lay unmoving.

A voice called out, "That's enough.  Take them to the stockade."

The huffing soldiers reached down and roughly grabbed hold of the two unconscious men, dragging them to the stockade and tossing them into separate cells.  They removed their outer clothing and boots, then walked away, leaving the two men lying sprawled on the cold stone floor to wait for consciousness to return.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Four Corners**

**Friday morning**

 

The five peacekeepers stood around the desk in the jail, packing their saddlebags.  Nathan added extra bandages, herbs and carbolic to each man's supplies, just in case.  Josiah, Ezra and JD each loaded extra ammunition.  Buck packed his saddlebags with sticks of dynamite.  A spool of fuse was sitting on the desktop, ready to be tied to his saddle as well.

"Anyone got an idea how we're going to spring Chris and Vin from that fort?" JD asked them.

"Yes, pray tell if someone has a plan.  Those soldiers aren't going to recognize any authority except that of the Army, and perhaps not even that if they're loyal to Colonel Milton," Ezra put in.

"We'll think of something," Josiah assured the younger men.  "We'll have a couple of days to think of something before we get there."

"Guess Chris and Vin thought doin' this favor for the judge would be easy," JD said to no one in particular.  He shook his head sadly.

"It's always the easy ones that'll get your snake caught in a twist," Buck said with a sigh.  He gestured to the remaining sticks of dynamite on the desktop.  "Hand me those, will ya, Josiah?"

"Certainly, brother," came the reply.  "Think you'll have enough?"

          "For what?" Ezra asked, looking more than a little nervous about the quantity of explosives.  "There is more than enough there to blow the entire Territory back to the Atlantic seaboard."

Buck just grinned and wagged his eyebrows.  "Hope so."

Ezra shook his head.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were looking forward to this, Mr. Wilmington."

The ladies' man grinned.  "Hell, Ezra, you know me, I like a good fight."

"Yes, well, I also seem to recall you claim you do not appreciate 'ugly,' Mr. Wilmington, and this, my friends, could very well end up quite ugly if Governor Hopewell knows he's under investigation."

"Don't care if he knows or not," Buck replied, his voice edged with a cold determination they rarely heard.  "Travis says Chris and Vin are in Fort Gila…  I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm plannin' on gettin' 'em out.  The rest'll take care of itself."

"We hear you, Buck," Nathan said, nodding.  "Our first priority is Chris and Vin."

Josiah nodded as well.  "Amen, brother.  Once we have them safely out, then we can worry about Hopewell."

"And he's already got plenty of ugly in his pocket," Buck replied.

Ezra grinned.  "And if those blue bellies give us any trouble?"

"Then we'll just have to teach the Army a lesson about which side they're supposed to be on," JD concluded with an air of finality.

"Amen, son," Josiah replied, grinning as he clapped the smaller man on the back.  "Amen."

"Plannin' on gettin' a little payback?" Buck asked the southerner with a grin.

Ezra feigned an air of innocence as he replied, "Why, whatever do you mean, Buck?"

The former Union soldier just grinned and shook his head.  But he pitied the poor fool who got in the gambler's way.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila Stockade**

**Late Tuesday night**

 

          In their separate cells, Chris and Vin lay unconscious for several hours, thanks to the beatings they had survived.  Vin was the first to wake, shifting and groaning as he slowly came around.

The first thing that struck him was the damp, biting cold.  In fact, it felt like he was freezing to death.  That alone forced him to sit up as he tried to minimize his contact with the frigid stone floor he had been lying on.

The next thing to register was the darkness – deep and forbidding.  It had been nighttime when they arrived at the fort, and it was nighttime now, but he wasn't sure if it was the same night, or the next.

The third thing that hit him was the pain.  He ached everywhere, but he knew he had no broken bones to worry about.  He couldn't be so sure about his insides.

"Chris?" he called quietly, squinting to peer around his cell, looking for the other man.

There was a soft moan in reply, then a raspy, "Vin?"

"Yeah, 'm here," Tanner said, a thin smile appearing on his puffy lips.  It sounded like Larabee was just waking up from a real bender.  "Y' okay?"

"Yeah… think so…" was the reply, followed by, "Cold."

Vin nodded, not thinking about the fact Chris couldn't see him.  Looking down at himself, the tracker realized he had been stripped down to his long johns, his boots and socks missing as well.  He guessed Chris was in similar circumstances.

Damn, it was no wonder he was so cold…

"Vin?"

"Yeah?"

"Ya hurt?"

"Nothin' t' worry on.  You?"

There was a pause, then, "Same."

Vin nodded again.  Well, that was something.  It was a good bet Hopewell had figured out they were on to him, and he had apparently taken steps to cover some of his tracks.  "Reckon they'll be lookin' fer us?"

"Lookin', yeah," Chris agreed.  "Ain't so sure about the findin' part, though."

That returned the small smile to Vin's lips.  "Hell, Larabee, y' sound as sour as an' ol' widow woman."  That prompted a soft chuckle from the man in the other cell.

"Well, ya found me once… guess they can do it again."

"Ah hell…" Vin mumbled.

"What?"

"Last time they had _me_ along t' show 'em what t' do."

That brought a snort from the other man.  "Tanner, you're full of shit, you know that?"

Vin smiled and started to reply, but he bit it back and frowned.  "Y' hear that?"

"What?"

"Listen…"

          The two men fell silent and, a few seconds later, the distant sound of boot steps reached the gunman.  "Shit, how do you do that?"

          "Must be part jackrabbit," Vin said quietly.

          "Reckon you're right."

They waited in silence and, before too long, they heard the door to the stockade squeak loudly as it was pulled open.  A few moments later, three men appeared, coming toward them down a long hallway.  The one leading the way was carrying a lantern and both peacekeepers squinted against the brightness until their eyes adjusted.

The one holding the lantern was older than the other two, and tall and broad-shouldered.  His silver-grey hair stood out in the glow from the lamp.  As he reached the cells, they could see from his insignia he was a colonel in the U.S. Cavalry.

          Both of the peacekeepers stood before the men reached their cells, determined to be on their feet to meet whatever was coming next.

          "What the hell's going on here, Colonel?" Larabee demanded.  He was cold, hungry and thirsty.  And he wasn't in any mood to play games.

          "You will speak only when spoken to, prisoner," the officer snarled, glowering at Larabee.  "You understand?"

          Oh, he understood, all right.  The blond had spent time as a prisoner before, and he hadn't liked it, not one little bit.  Larabee didn't reckon he was going to care much for it this time, either.

"I'm Colonel Jacob Milton, and you men are prisoners at Fort Gila, Arizona Territory."

          "On what charge?" Chris couldn't help insisting.

          "Treason," Milton replied, enjoying the twin looks of surprise his announcement prompted.

          "Like hell," Larabee snarled, the charge angering him.  "We're peacekeepers, from Four Corners.  We're paid by Judge Orin Travis to keep that town safe.  We're no traitors."

          "No, sir, you are _not_ peacekeepers, not anymore, anyway," Milton told him, the hard glint in his dark eyes sending a chill racing down Chris' back.  He'd had some experience with sadistic prison wardens, but this man made the warden in Jericho look like an amateur.  "Now you're nothing more than prisoners – _my_ prisoners."  His gaze shifted from Chris to Vin.  "And this one here looks more like a renegade off some reservation than a man, a peacekeeper.  That true, breed?"

          Vin refused to be baited.  He simply stared back at the colonel, his chin up, the look in his eyes defiant.

          Milton replied to the silence with a sharp smile that quickly disappeared.  "You're just prisoners, _my_ prisoners… for as long as I decide to keep you alive."

          "You can't just kill us," Chris challenged the officer.

          "I can do any damn thing I please!" Milton bellowed back at him.

          "We need food, and water, and some blankets," Larabee told him, his own voice rising as well.  He knew there was absolutely no reason for the Army to be interested in him, or in Vin.  Not unless the colonel had something to do with Hopewell's dealings, in which case he and Vin were in a lot more trouble than he'd first thought.

          "You'll get _what_ I want you to have, prisoner, _when_ I want you to have it."  And with that, Milton turned and stalked off back down the hall, the two privates trailing after him.

          "We need food, water and blankets!" Larabee yelled after them, but there was no reply.  "Damn it," he hissed.  He was already so thirsty he could barely spit.  It was the water he wanted most, but it didn't look like he was going to get it.

          "Y' all right?" Vin asked when the door squeaked shut again.

          "Thirsty," Larabee admitted.

          Vin's lips pressed together into a thin line.  He could guess that had something to do with the fever Larabee had fought off not so long ago.  Given their situation, there was a good chance Chris might end up sick again, and that worried him more than he wanted to think about.

          "You know anything about this bastard?" Chris asked.

          Vin thought for a moment.  "Not much.  Don't care for Indians; killed a bunch of 'em up north – women, kids, old men mostly."

          "He's got to be a friend of Hopewell's."

          "Reckon so," Vin sighed.  And that didn't bode well for their chances of getting out of the fort alive.  He moved off, checking his cell, trying to find a weakness he could exploit, but he found nothing.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Friday, on the trail**

 

          The remaining five peacekeepers had pushed their mounts as hard as they dared all day, trying to reach the small community of Mesa Ridge before nightfall.  Their horses were tired, the pace grueling for both men and beasts.  So, when the lights of the small town finally came into view, each of the men let a small sigh of relief escape his lips.

          As they traveled, they had tried to come up with a way inside an Army fort, but nothing anyone suggested had held up as they continued to examine it.  It was frustrating, and worrisome.

          But the most chilling comment of all had come from JD when he'd innocently remarked, "Hell, we don't even know if they're still alive."

          "We have to assume they are," Ezra had countered, his face having gone a little pale over the all-too-real possibility their friends might already be dead.

          "Damn right, we do," Buck had added, and that had put a stop to the conversation.  The last two hours of the ride had passed in silence.

They rode into Mesa Ridge, heading straight to the livery stable at the edge of town and dismounting.  After freeing their saddlebags, they paid for the care of their horses and then headed, as a group, to the hotel to procure themselves three rooms.  Buck and JD took one, Nathan and Josiah the second.  Ezra, opting to pay a little more for his privacy and a soak in a hot bath, paid for a third.

          After grabbing a meal at the only restaurant in the small town, they headed for the saloon closest to the hotel, each man ordering himself a drink, which they sat and sipped at a table toward the rear of the establishment.  Ezra scanned the two groups of men seated at tables, playing poker, but he made no move to join either of the two games.

          JD finished his beer, then excused himself and walked down to the telegraph office, where he found a wire waiting for them from Mary Travis.  After paying for it, he carried it back to the others, sliding back into his seat before opening it and reading it aloud.

          "Mary says…  Our friends where expected.  Hope to see them home soon."

          "So, they're still in Fort Gila," Ezra said softly, taking the telegram from JD and looking it over himself.  "Any ideas, gentlemen?"

          Buck shrugged.  "Like usual, I reckon…"

"By the seat of our pants?" Nathan questioned.

          The gambler rolled his eyes.  "That, my good fellows, is an excellent way for someone to end up dead."

          "Might be the best we can do 'til we get a look at the place," Josiah reasoned.  "Once we get there, then maybe we'll be able to spot a hole in their security.  Every fort has one."

          "Sounds like the voice of experience there, Josiah," Buck returned with a grin.

          The former preacher gave a slight tilt of his head as he said, "My father preached in more of 'em than I can count…  I, on the other hand, had more… earthly interests, at the time."

          "Sounds like there's some good stories to be told," Nathan said, amusement clear in his dark brown eyes.

          Josiah nodded, a slight grin on his lips.  "Yes, I suppose there are…  But they'll have to wait for another time – when we're all together again."

          Ezra checked his pocket watch, then reached out and picked up his drink, finishing the remainder in a single swallow.  "Gentlemen, my bath should be waiting.  I will see you in the morning when we break our fast."

          "You're takin' a bath?" JD asked him.  "But we're gonna have another day just like today, tomorrow.

          Ezra issued a long-suffering sigh and then said, "Just because one plans to expose himself to the dusty grime of the wilderness doesn't mean one cannot partake of the particular benefits of civilization when they're available."

          "Huh?" JD responded.

          "He'll just take another bath again tomorrow," Josiah translated.

          "Oh," JD said, then looked up at the gambler, frowning.  "Well, whatever ya want," he said.  "Just seems like a waste of money to me."

          "Yes, I can tell," Ezra replied, heading off.

          JD's frown deepened.  "Did he just—?"

          "Say ya stink?" Buck finished for the younger man.  "Yep, I think he did."

          "I do not!" Dunne retorted, noticing the amused expressions on the other men's faces.  "Well, no more than the rest of you!" he added.

          "Maybe we oughtta go see if we can borrow that tub when Ezra's finished," Nathan said.

          Buck grinned, spotting a pretty little redhead coming down the stairs of the saloon for the evening.  "Mmm, I'd rather borrow hers," he said.

          "You don't even know if she has one," JD told him.

          "Something that pretty… she must," Buck said, pushing up and starting over to the woman.  Within moments, they were cozied up to the bar, sharing drinks, their heads bent toward one another's.

          JD shook his head.  "Sure don't see why they always do that," he muttered.

          "What, you don't think it's his animal magnetism?" Josiah asked.

          "Heck no, Josiah," JD replied.  "I'm thinkin' maybe he pays 'em to act like that when one of us is around to see it."

          Nathan and Josiah exchanged amused glances.

          "Betcha I'll be sleeping alone in my room tonight," JD added, then sighed.

          "I'm gonna go find out about that bath," Nathan said, standing.

          "I'll come with you, brother," Josiah told him.  "Between the two of us, we might be able to roust Ezra out before the water's completely cold."

          JD didn't watch the two men leave, his concentration on Buck as he and the redhead started for the stairs.  When they disappeared at the top, he shook his head, then picked up the telegram and stuffed it into his pocket and stood.  Looking down at his dust-coated clothes, he frowned.  "Wonder what a bath costs here anyway?" he mumbled as he headed out of the saloon.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Thursday night**

 

Larabee stood at the bars of his cell and yelled, demanding food and water for him and Vin.  He rattled the bars as hard as he could, and called out louder, but there was still no response, not even a call for him to shut up.

It had been two days – at least, he thought it had been two days – since they had been taken into the fort, and they hadn't seen anyone since the colonel had dropped by that first night.  Larabee was cold and hungry, but mostly he was thirsty – desperately thirsty.  The fever he had gotten over was starting to return, too.  But at least his lungs had remained clear…

He tried yelling one more time, then sat back down on the cold floor, leaning back against an equally cold cell wall.

"I want some damn water," Chris said with a sigh.  "Hell, even that hole in Jericho gave us water, and one lousy meal a day.  It's already been two days… hasn't it?"

"Yep," Vin replied from where he sat, leaning back against the same wall as Larabee was.  He was cold all the way down to his bones.  "Me, I'd like a blanket."

"Didn't even leave me a bucket to piss in," Larabee grumbled.  "Bastards."

In his cell, Vin grinned thinly.  "Hell, Chris, with no food 'r water, don't reckon we'll be needin' one, do you?"

The tracker heard Chris snort softly in reply.  "Reckon you might be right about that."  After a few moments passed, the blond asked, "You have any ideas about gettin' out of here?"

Vin thought for a moment.  "Y' mean 'sides feet first?"

Another soft snort.  "Yeah, beside that, I mean."

"Nope.  You?"

There was another long sigh, then, "Same as you."

"Hell…"

"Yep, that about sums it up."

"Listen.  Somebody's comin'," Vin said, his voice going quiet.

A moment later, they heard the squeak as the door to the stockade was pulled open.

"How the hell do you do that?" Larabee asked the tracker.

Vin just grinned in his cell.  If it was Colonel Milton, it would be the first they had seen of the man in forty-eight hours.  The tracker had more or less decided the man planned on letting them die slowly of thirst and hunger.

          And it was the colonel, along with two soldiers, both of them carrying wooden buckets.

          "I hear you're demanding water," Milton stated.

Larabee glowered up at the man, but he refused to beg.

"Soldier," Milton snapped, and the private standing in front of the blond's cell tossed the contents of the bucket onto Chris, soaking his long johns with cold well water.

Larabee sucked in a sharp breath as the biting cold assaulted him, then scrambled back away from the bars and shot to his feet.  With a growled curse, he threw himself at the bars, reaching through them for the soldier, determined to tear the man's head off if he got his hands on him.

The private quickly scrambled back out of reach, then stepped over to the other cell and drew his sidearm to cover Vin while the second private opened his cell door and went in to set his bucket down inside the cell.

As soon as he was done, the man stepped back out of the tracker's cell and closed the door again.

Milton grinned at the soaking-wet peacekeeper.  "Gonna be a cold night, prisoner," he said, then turned and stepped over to Vin's cell.  The tracker hadn't moved from where he sat.

The colonel studied him for a moment, then grunted.  "Don't have much to say, do you, breed?"

Vin remained silent.

Chris waited until Milton's attention had shifted to Vin, then he dropped to the stone floor of the cell, his thirst driving him to use the material of his long john shirt to soak up as much of the water from the stone floor as he could, sucking it greedily out of the material.

"Your friend's very… thirsty," the colonel said, not needing to see the man to know what it he was doing.  He smiled, enjoying the sound of Larabee's desperation.

"So 'm I," Vin replied.  "Been two days with no food 'r water."  He didn't need to mention that they had been two unbearably hot days, and three freezing cold nights.

Milton nodded.  "I want to know where the woman is, and who sent you to her."

"Don't know what yer talkin' about," Vin said, staring at the wall across from him.

"Oh, you'll tell me, breed," the colonel said.  "Sooner or later, you'll tell me everything."  Milton turned on his heel and left, the two soldiers trailing obediently after him.

          When he heard the door to the stockade close again, Vin moved, scooting over to the bucket and lifting the lid.  It was half full of water.  He dipped his hand in, scooping out mouthful after mouthful, until he grew frustrated and finally grabbed the sides of the bucket and lifted it to his lips, gulping down nearly half of what was there before he could stop himself.

          When he finished, he scooted over to the corner where the bars met the wall.  "Here, Chris, I got some more."

Chris looked up, the light of hope reaching his eyes as he heard Vin dip his hand into the water in his bucket.  A moment later, that same hand appeared in front of the bars of Larabee's cell.  He reached out, trying to guide Vin's hand close enough for him to drink from it, but it was impossible.  He reached out, cupping his hand under Vin's.  "Okay, pour it into my hand," he instructed.

Vin did, and Chris pulled his hand in and sucked down the tiny amount.  They spent nearly half an hour like that, Vin passing mouthfuls of the precious liquid to the blond until, finally, his bucket was empty.

Then, still weak from the cold and the lack of food and water, they each leaned back against their shared wall, resting.  A few moments later, Tanner heard the sounds of Larabee's teeth chattering and he cursed softly.

"Soaked y' good, didn't he?"

"Bastard," the gunman snarled, pulling the sodden shirt off and hanging it on the crossbar of his cell so it might dry.  He pulled his legs up and hugged his arms over his naked chest, curling forward and trying to conserve whatever body heat he could.

Vin sat for a while, trying to figure out some way for them to get out, but there was nothing.  The bars were solid, the windows too high to reach and too small to crawl through even if they did find some way to get past the bars.

The locks on the cell doors were well-maintained, too, and there wasn't a damn thing in his cell he could use against the lock.  He shivered, knowing Chris must be considerably colder due to the soaking.  Still, he couldn't help but murmur, "S' damn cold…"

"Gotta find a way out of here," Chris said, sounding stronger now that he'd finally gotten some water.

"How?"

"Hell if I know, but I'm not goin' to let this bastard win."

Vin nodded.  He understood what Chris was saying.  He didn't want to let the bastard win, either, but right now, Milton was holding all the cards.

"Chris," the tracker called softly.

"Yeah?"

"Y' getting' sick again?"

There was a long pause, but then Larabee replied, saying, "Fever's come up some, but it ain't too bad."

Vin ground his teeth together and shook his head, vowing to gut the colonel and let the man die slow.  If Larabee died… he'd make sure Milton suffered even more before the end came.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Friday night**

 

The two peacekeepers were both dozing when they heard the squeak of the door opening.  "Two nights in a row?" Chris said softly.

"Ain't sure I like it," Vin replied.

The two men fell silent as they waited for the men coming down the hallway to reach them.  As usual, two soldiers had accompanied Colonel Milton, and one of them unlocked Chris' cell, gesturing with his gun for Larabee to stand.

Once the blond was on his feet, the two soldiers escorted him out of his cell and down the hallway.

"Where y' takin' him?" Vin demanded, pushing to his feet to try and see what was happening.

"Don't worry, breed, you'll get your turn," Milton assured him smoothly, then turned and followed after his men.

"Colonel!" Vin bellowed.  "Y' better not kill 'im!  Y' hear me?!"

But the only reply Tanner got was a low chuckle that raised the hairs on the back of the tracker's neck.

"Sonuvabitch," the tracker hissed, reaching out to grip the bars.  He gave them a frustrated shake and cursed again.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Once they were outside the stockade building, the two soldiers stopped to bind Chris' hands in front of him, then blindfolded him.  Once that was accomplished, they led him away.

          "Where are you taking me?" Larabee demanded, but the men didn't reply.  "Where are we going?" he tried again, getting the same results.

          After a short walk, they took Chris into another building.  He stumbled on a rough-hewn, wooden floor and, a few moments later, was pushed down onto a chair.  He raised his hands, striking his wrists on the edge of a thick wooden table.  He could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, and steeled himself to look calm, even if he was feeling anything but.

          A few moments later, he heard someone else enter the room, the sound of heavy footfalls telling him a man had taken a seat across from him at the table.  That had to be Milton.

          "I want some water," Chris said, his voice as raspy as Vin's usually was.

          "After you've answered my questions," the colonel stated.

          "Need water to do that," Chris countered.

          "After."

          "Nothin' to tell," Chris replied.  "Just a peacekeeper."

          "What were you doing in Mesa Ridge?"

          "Tracking a couple of men who robbed a local shopkeeper; their trail took us there."

          "You're lying," Milton snapped, his palm slapping the tabletop and making Larabee jump slightly despite his best efforts.  "You're working for someone who wants to bring Governor Hopewall down."

          "What?  I don't know what you're talkin' about."

          "Like hell you don't," the officer sneered.

          Chris smiled thinly.  "Wasn't there a General Milton once?  Heard he was convicted of slaughtering helpless women and children…"

          "Yes, well, I have friends, and I won't be in the Army forever.  You, however, are going die here."

          "So will you," Larabee snarled back.  "It'll just take a little longer."

          "You will tell me what I want to know, boy."

          "Go to hell."

          Milton stood and walked to a table in the corner of the room.  "You keep asking for water…"

          "Because I'm thirsty," was Larabee's tart reply.

          Milton reached out and lifted a clay pitcher, filling a cup with the water that was in it.  Then he set the pitcher down and picked up a cup sitting next to the one he'd just filled.  He walked back to the table where Larabee sat.  "Tell me your name, and I'll let you have this," he said.

          "Larabee.  Chris Larabee."

          "Open your mouth," Milton instructed.

          Chris tilted his head back and opened his mouth.  Milton poured the contents of the cup into the blond's mouth.

          Chris gagged, coughed and began spitting out sand.  "Bastard!" he choked.  "Give me the damn water!"

          Milton smiled at the man.  "You're a pathetic excuse of a man, Larabee… and your degradation has just begun."  He looked at one of the soldiers who were standing just inside the room by the door.  "Give him his water and take him back to his cell."  He looked back at Larabee and smiled.  "We're just getting started, you and I.  Tell me what I want to know and things will go easier."

          Chris didn't respond, still using his bound hands to try and remove the sand from his mouth.

          "Have it your way," Milton said.  "Personally, I'll enjoy it more this way…  But I won't be able to say the same for you and that breed."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Saturday evening**

**On the trail**

 

          Five tired men rode into Red Canyon.  They dropped their horses off at the livery and walked down to the first restaurant they found, eating large meals, accompanied by several cups of coffee, in relative silence, all of them too tired to try making small talk.

          When they finished, they paid, then stood and walked to the closest saloon.  There they broke up, Buck heading straight to the bar and striking up a conversation with one of the working girls.  JD, Nathan and Josiah took seats at a table.  The bartender shot the healer an angry look, pointedly ignoring the three men until Josiah finally stood and walked over to the bar, exchanging a few words with the man before bringing a bottle of whiskey and three glasses back to the table.  After a short while, JD wandered over to the bar and eventually struck up a conversation with the bartender.

          Ezra had made his way over to one of the four poker games being played, joining in with the next hand.

          After a couple of hours, the men excused themselves and headed to the hotel, taking rooms for the night.  Before they slept, they met in the single room Ezra had taken, exchanging what information they had come up with.

          Most interesting was something the saloon girl had passed along to Buck.

          "Esther says the man who knows the most about the fort is an Oscar Troutman.  He was a boss on the work crews that helped build it."

"And where might we find this Mr. Troutman?" Ezra questioned.

          "Said he's got himself a farm now, somewhere between here and Bent Copper," Buck replied.

          "Then it looks like that's our next stop," Josiah said.

          The others nodded their agreement.

          "Bartender says Colonel Milton runs things pretty tight," JD added.  "But some of his soldiers make it into town on a regular basis."

          "How regular?" Buck asked.

          JD shrugged as he said, "Just a couple of them every other day or so – no more than three.  Says they usually come in after dark and leave at closing."

          Josiah and Buck exchanged knowing grins.

          "What?" JD asked.

          "Sounds like they might be slipping out after dark," Josiah replied and Buck nodded, grinning.  "Might be just what we need."

          "Time will tell," Ezra said.  "First we should speak to Troutman."

          "Agreed," Nathan added, and the others agreed as well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Saturday night**

 

          Vin sat in his cell, hunger gnawing at him.  Neither he nor Chris had had anything to eat since just after dawn on Tuesday morning.  And he'd only been given water back on Thursday night.  His body was feeling sore and sluggish, and his head was aching.

          It hadn't helped that the soldiers had come for him twice so far, beating him and trying to get him to tell them where he and Chris had hidden the girl.  He hadn't told them anything, but he knew he couldn't hold out forever.

He closed his eyes and willed his aching ribs to quiet.

It was completely silent in his cell.  They had come for Chris about an hour earlier, so there wasn't even the reassurance of the other man's presence to keep him company.  He worried about what they might be doing to Chris, hoping it wasn't what they had done to him.  Chris was suffering more than he was; his fever had returned, albeit low so far, but it stripped the man of what was left of his strength.  Vin had gotten used to deprivation while living among the Indians and while a prisoner of war, but he didn't enjoy it much.

He wanted the food and water more for Chris than himself.  A few more days and he was afraid the fever would be back like it was before…  It had scared him far worse than he'd expected, to see Chris sick like that.  And there had been nothing he could do except follow Nathan's instructions and hope for the best.

He'd let the gunman in way too deep, he knew that.  If he'd been a smart man, he'd have left Four Corners months ago.  He needed to take of that business in Tascosa, even if he had no idea how he might do that, not with Eli Joe dead.

Larabee would come with him, though, just like he had said he would way back when they had just met.  And that was probably one of the reasons he'd allowed that bounty to stay on his head.  He didn't want Chris getting himself killed trying to help him.

But it was more than that.  He'd started caring about the man in ways he hadn't thought possible.  Not that it did him a damn bit of good, he thought.  Larabee was all White man, and no doubt carried all the same opinions of other White men when it came to the kinds of love Vin had seen expressed among the People, be they Kiowa, Comanche or any other he'd crossed paths with.

No, that trail was a dead end, and he knew it.  But that did nothing to quell his feelings for the man.

Of course, the way they were going, they were both going to end up dead soon – unless they figured a way out; unless Milton up and grew a conscience, which was about as likely as Peso learning to fly.

          He wondered, too, if the others were looking for them, knowing they must be, but he wasn't sure how they could possibly find them.  Unless Travis had friends in the Army, and that was possible – the judge seemed to have friends just about everywhere.  He fervently hoped the judge did, because right now, he and Chris needed all the help they could get.

          A soft scratching noise captured his attention and the tracker cocked his head, listening intently.  The sound grew slightly louder and Vin's eyes opened.  A large grasshopper was making its way slowly across the cold, stone floor of the cell.

          Vin moved slowly as well, carefully easing ever closer to the insect.  Then his hand shot out and he grabbed it, passing it straight into his mouth, biting and swallowing.  He didn't care much for the taste, but it was better than nothing, and he'd eaten grasshoppers before while living with the tribes in northern Nevada.

          The squeal of the outside door opening alerted him to the soldiers returning, and he moved back to the wall and leaned against it, watching and waiting.  The two soldiers were dragging Chris between them, and, surprisingly, they opened Vin's cell door and tossed Larabee in with him, then turned and left without a word.

          Chris pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, then crawled over so he could sit next to Vin, their shoulders touching as they leaned back against the cold wall.

          The tracker could feel the fever radiating through Larabee's filthy long johns, but before he could say anything, the blond slumped against him.  He grabbed the man, pulling him in against his chest and wrapping his arms around him.

          "Chris, y' hear me?" he called, suddenly more scared than he could remember.  What had Milton done to him?

          "Vin?" Larabee asked, sounding weak and confused.

          "'M here, Cowboy," the tracker said, his hands moving lightly over the man's body, searching for signs of injury.

          "Didn't tell 'em anything," Chris whispered.  "Didn't give me any water, either," he grumbled.  "Don't think we're gonna get out 'a here… 'cept feet first, pard."

          "Yeah, we will," Tanner told him, giving him a little shake.  "Got plans."

          "It all goes t' hell, sooner or later," Larabee continued, his voice airy.  "Look at my family…"

          "Reckon there's a reason y' survived, Chris," Vin said softly.  He hadn't felt any obvious wounds, although he'd located several tender spots.  He wondered if there might not be something broken inside, though, and hoped it wasn't true.  There was nothing he could do about that.  "Reckon there's a reason why we all survived as long as we have."

          "What would that be?" the blond asked, sounding more than a little skeptical.

          Vin thought for a moment, then grumbled, "Hell, Chris, I don't know."

          That prompted a snort from Larabee.  Then the man turned serious as he asked, "What keeps _you_ going, Vin?"

          Tanner thought about that for a moment, then said, "That look on yer face when I caught yer eyes that first day…"

          Chris huffed out a weak laugh and gave a slight nod, letting the tracker know he understood what he was saying, but what he said out loud was, "I just didn't want to see some damn store clerk get himself killed."

          "Y' really think I's a clerk?" Vin asked, already smiling thinly.

          "Must've been that damn apron…"

          That forced a snort from Tanner.  "Hated that damn thing…"

          "I don't know… looked pretty good on ya."

          "Keep it up, Cowboy, I'll kill y' m'self 'n' eat yer liver."

          "Like ol' Liver-eatin' Jones?"

          "Nope," Tanner said, adding, "he didn't kill 'em first…"

          Chris winced.  "Guess it's a good thing he found God, huh?"

          Tanner nodded.  "Good fer someone."

          "Damn, I'm thirsty."

          "'M cold," Vin replied.

          The two men settled where they were, drawing comfort and warmth from one another as they waited.  Vin held Chris tightly against him, his hands lightly rubbing the man's sore muscles.  He felt Chris sag against him, relaxing slightly under his touch, and thought about the man's question:  _What keeps you going, Vin?_

          He hadn't lied to Larabee, but he hadn't told him the whole truth, either.  That look did keep him going, but it was the man behind it that was his real inspiration, the man he was holding in his arms.  He might have laughed if their situation hadn't been so damn dire.  Here he had Chris right where he wanted him, and he couldn't do a damn thing with him.

          Sometimes life just wasn't fair.

          "Feels good," Chris breathed out quietly.

          Vin nodded, knowing the man would feel it and understand.  He didn't trust his voice right now.  If he opened his mouth, he might just say something he couldn't take back later, when they got out of this mess, and he knew they would, because anything less was unacceptable.  He wasn't going to lose this man now.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Some time later, the soldiers returned, dragging Chris out of Vin's cell and taking him back to Milton's office.  When Larabee still refused to talk, he was beaten again and returned to his own cell.

          But, just before his cell door was pushed shut, two additional soldiers arrived, each of them carrying a bucket.

Vin's cell was opened first, one of the privates stepping in to set the bucket inside, then the door was closed and locked again.

          A second private walked into Chris' cell.

"Give me the water," Larabee demanded.

The soldier pulled off the lid and lifted the bucket, pouring a thin stream onto the blond's face.  Chris closed his eyes and opened his mouth, gulping down the precious liquid.

The soldiers watching laughed and the private stopped, replacing the lid and setting the bucket on the stone floor.  He quickly stepped back out so another man could close and lock the door.  He rattled the bars, making sure it was securely locked, then he and the other men turned and walked out without a word.

          Vin waited until they were gone, then scooted over and pulled the lid off his bucket.  He leaned over and sniffed the water.  It smelled normal.

He dipped his hand into the cold liquid and lifted the water to his lips and sipped.  It tasted normal as well.

          "Chris, y' get some water?" he asked, hoping the men hadn't poured it all over Larabee again.

          "Yeah," the blond replied, licking his wet lips and moving over to the bucket.  Pulling off the lid, he looked down, finding a dead rat floating on the surface of the liquid.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," he hissed, turning away and vomiting the water he'd just consumed back up.

          "Chris?" Vin called worriedly.  "Chris, what's wrong?"

          But Larabee couldn't reply.  He continued to heave a few more times, then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and yelled, "You want t' kill me, Colonel?"  He waited, knowing somehow the man could hear him.  "You'll have to do better than that!"

          And with that, he turned back to the bucket, reached in and grabbed the rat by the tail, lifting it out and throwing it into a corner of his cell, where it landed with a wet smack.  Then he lifted the bucket and drank deeply.

          "Chris?"

          "'M all right," he said, a little breathlessly.  "Bastards put a dead rat in the bucket."

          "Rat?"

          "Yeah," the blond said, wiping his hand over his mouth again.  This time, the water stayed put.

          "Give it t' me, Chris."

          "What?"

          "Give me the rat," Vin told him.

          Larabee shivered, but he crawled over and retrieved the dead animal, then crawled back to the bars, passing it over to Vin, wishing he could see the man.  "What're you gonna do?"

          There was no reply, but a short time later he heard a choking sound, then a wet, tearing sound.  "Here, eat," Tanner said, his voice a little thick.

          A moment later, Larabee saw the man's blood-soaked fingers as he held out a piece of raw meat.  "I… I don't think I can…" he replied.

          "Better 'n dyin' and lettin' Milton beat us," Tanner said.

          Vin was right.  Chris reached through the bars and took the meat, forcing himself to eat that bite, and the others Vin handed over to him.

          He wasn't sure how Tanner had managed it, but he was grateful.  His thirst had been so bad he'd been able to ignore the gnawing pain in his belly, but now it resurfaced, letting him know just how hungry he was.

          He licked his fingers clean and shook his head, disgusted by how far he'd sunk, but Vin was right – they had to do whatever it took to stay alive.  They had to give the others time to find them, and he was sure they would, he just wasn't sure it would be in time.

          He'd felt much the same when he'd been held on that damn work farm in Jericho.  But that time, Vin had been on the outside, and he'd believed with every fiber of his being that Tanner would find him, and he had.  The others had all played their parts, he knew that, but he couldn't help thinking that it had been Vin who had really found him, Vin who had brought him back from that dark place he'd sunk into…

          It was the second time Tanner had done that.

          Why?

          But he already knew the answer.  It had been loud and clear in the man's touch earlier.  He just wasn't sure what to do about it.

          He knew he cared about Vin, more than he did anybody else in his life – a fact that sometimes made him feel guilty or ashamed.  He'd known Buck years longer, and he knew Mary Travis was waiting for him to make his intentions toward her clear…

          Hell…

          There had been a time when he'd considered courting her, but he hadn't – couldn't, really.  Because someone else had filled up that part of his heart he'd thought had died with Sarah.  It made no sense to him, and, when he thought about it long enough to admit the truth, it scared him, too.  He didn't think he could face that kind of loss again…

          No, he _knew_ he couldn't.

          And, at the same time, it was like there was some part of his soul whispering into his ear, telling him Vin would never let him down, never leave him.  He wanted to believe it, hell, he _did_ believe it, but he had no idea what to do about it.  Sitting there, wrapped in the man's arms, had felt as natural as breathing.  It had felt good, damn good.  And if he closed his eyes right now, he could feel those arms around him again…

          It made no sense.  Men didn't fall in love with other men.

          Oh, he wasn't naïve, he'd run across men who sated their needs with other men, but usually only where there weren't any women to be had.  A few of them seemed to prefer the company of other men, but they still married and settled down…

          His eyes popped open.  What the hell was he thinking?

          They were locked up in a stockade, Milton determined to break them before he killed them, and he was thinking about settling down with Vin?

          His fever must be worse than he thought.

          But the idea did have a draw to it, and he closed his eyes again, content for the moment to take comfort in the remembered feel of Tanner's arms around him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Sunday, on the trail**

 

          The peacekeepers found Troutman's farm with help from one of the man's neighbors, an older man they met along the road from Bent Copper.

          Riding into the man's yard, they tipped their hats to an older woman who was standing, feeding her chickens.

          "Ma'am," Josiah greeted her, "are you Mrs. Troutman?"

          "I am," she replied, looking a little nervous about having five armed men in her yard.

          "Madam, we're looking for your husband," Ezra told her.  "We'd like to speak to him about a matter of some urgency."

          "What about?" she asked, not sure she trusted the smooth-talking man.

          "Ma'am," JD said, flashing her his best smile, "I'm the sheriff over in Four Corners.  We just need to ask him a few questions about Fort Gila."

          "Fort Gila?" she echoed, frowning.  "And you say you're a sheriff?"  That came out laced with suspicion, and JD had to fight the urge to sigh and roll his eyes.

          "Yes, ma'am, he is," Buck said, giving her his best smile as well.  "And we don't want to be a bother to you any longer than we need to.  We know you must be busy."

          She still looked suspicious.  "A few questions take all five of you?"

"Well, ma'am, two of us ought ta be plenty, if it makes ya worry," Buck agreed.

She nodded, her gaze sweeping over each of them in turn.  "He's gone out to remove a boulder from a new field," she told them, then pointed the way.

"We're much obliged, ma'am," Buck told her.  "Now, if ya like, the three of us stayin' here would be more 'n happy to help ya with the mornin' chores…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Josiah and Ezra rode out to speak to Mr. Troutman, the other three finding small tasks they could do for the woman while they waited.  In gratitude, she fixed them coffee and baked them some biscuits, which they ate with freshly churned butter and warm honey.

          "This is mighty fine cookin', ma'am," Buck told her.

          She blushed prettily and smiled.  "Well, I'm glad you like it.  You think your friends might be back soon enough to enjoy the rest while they're still hot?"

          "Don't know for sure, ma'am," JD replied, a twinkle in his eye.  "But we'd be happy to finish them off if they don't."

          She grinned.  "Growing boy like you, I don't doubt it."

          JD shot Buck a helpless look, silently begging him to tell the woman he was a grown man, but Buck had his own agenda.

          "So, we heard your husband was on the crew that built Fort Gila," he said to the woman.

          She nodded.  "Foreman, he was," she added proudly.  "Wasn't much of a challenge to him, though.  He helped them build some of those tall buildings back east, in New York City."

          "Well, ain't that something," Buck said, flirting with the older woman.  "You know much about the fort?"

          She looked thoughtful as she replied, saying, "Well, now, I guess that depends on what it is you boys are looking to find out…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "There he is," Josiah said, nodding.

          Ezra looked.  A man just past middle age was urging a mule, rigged with ropes and a harness, to drag a large stone from a recently turned field.  The contrary beast wasn't too happy about the task, but was gradually getting the work done.

          The two men rode up slowly, waiting until the animal finally pulled the stone free and the man could stop and wipe his brow.

          "I help you boys?" Mr. Troutman asked the two men.

          "We hope so, sir," Josiah replied.  "We heard you worked on the construction of Fort Gila."

          The older man's eyes narrowed.  "And if I did?"

          Josiah and Ezra exchanged a look, then the gambler said, "We have it on the best authority that two friends of ours are being unlawfully detained there by a Colonel Jacob Milton."

          "That right?" the man replied, his eyes narrowing still further.

          "Yes, sir, it is," Josiah said.

          "Milton's… a zealot," Troutman said, "runs a tight ship."

          "Yes, well, that might be so, sir, but we all know that everyone, and everything – like a fort – has its Achilles' heel," Ezra stated.  "We're hoping you might be able to help us determine what that might be in the case of Fort Gila."

          The man shook his head.  "Can't be done."

          "We think it can," Josiah said.

          "Boys, I'm a little busy here, as you can see.  I need to get this field ready to seed."

          "Sir, we've ridden a long way, and we have no intention of leaving here empty-handed," Ezra told him.

          "I have nothing to tell you."

          "Mr. Troutman," Josiah said, "are you familiar with a circuit judge by the name of Travis?"

          "I am," the man replied, looking puzzled.  "I served on a jury in his court last year."

          Josiah nodded, glad the man had met the judge.  "Then you know Judge Travis isn't a man who likes to be frustrated by pig-headed folks."

          "You sayin' you're here for Judge Travis?" Troutman questioned, eyes narrowed again.

          "You could put it that way," Ezra agreed.

          Troutman sighed.  He knew Travis was a good man, and a fair judge.  He also knew the man didn't tolerate anyone who got in his way.  "Let's go back to the house," he said.

          "Excellent," Ezra said, smiling.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Sunday night**

 

          Chris struggled in the grips of two men who guided him along outside the stockade.  This was the first time he hadn't been bound and blindfolded as soon as he was outside the building housing the cells.

He was taken over to a wall that had been erected about six feet from the outer wall of the fort itself.  His hands were tied so his arms were stretched out on either side of his body.

          "You know," Colonel Milton said as soon as he'd been secured, "I've always been fascinated by men who are more willing to die for their causes than to live for them."

"Easily entertained, aren't you?" Chris spat back, glowering at the man.

"If you think I approach your execution without remorse, you're mistaken, Mr. Larabee.  I regret not learning more about you."

"Too damn bad for me.  I've already told you everything I know."

"It's not too late to reconsider.  I will ask you one last time:  Where is the woman?"

"And I still don't know who the hell you're talking about.  I'm just a peacekeeper from Four Corners."

Milton gestured to his men, still standing on either side of the blond, and they began to beat him.

"This should feel familiar, doesn't it?" Milton asked as the two soldiers worked.  "A little like your time in Jericho, isn't it?"

Chris waited until the men stepped away, then looked at the colonel and snarled, "The warden there had more imagination."

"Form up!" Milton snapped angrily, and the soldiers milling around, watching Larabee's beating, formed a firing line.  "It doesn't have to end like this," the colonel told him.

"'Least I have peace of mind," Chris replied with a feral grin.  In the back of his mind, he realized that he understood Flower better now.

"Weapons ready!  Be sensible, Larabee, your life doesn't need to be cut short like this."

"Don't I get a blindfold?" Larabee asked, his tone taunting.

"Aim!  What will it be, Larabee?  Cooperation… or death?"

"Cooperation _is_ death, at least with you, Colonel."

"Fire!"

The soldiers opened fire, shooting all around Chris, but not hitting him.  He stood, his eyes squeezed shut, his head turned away, waiting for one of the bullets to strike him.  But none of them did.

"Cease fire!"

Chris couldn't stop his body from beginning to shake when the guns fell silent.  He opened his eyes, staring murderously at Milton, who was gesturing for the two soldiers to untie him.  They did, then grabbed his arms.

"Maybe the next time, you'll be willing to see it my way," Milton said to him.  "Or my soldiers will have improved their aim."

"Go to hell," Larabee replied.

Milton turned and walked away, the two soldiers taking Larabee back to his cell.  Two more followed with their pistols drawn, just in case he tried to escape, but at the moment he was having trouble just staying on his feet.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Earlier**

 

Vin sat in his cell, listening to them take Chris away again and wondering what they might do to him this time.  He knew Larabee was getting a little sicker every day.  In fact, he was downright surprised the fever hadn't consumed the man again – surprised, but grateful.  But the man's strength was failing and he knew Larabee wasn't going to be able to put up a fight for much longer.

Then he heard Milton's voice and realized that it was coming in from the small window in the opposite wall.

He climbed to his feet and hurried over.

"You know, I've always been fascinated by men who are more willing to die for their causes than to live for them," he heard the colonel say.

"Easily entertained, aren't you?" Chris snarled back.  The tracker grinned.  Larabee had more than his fair share of grit, no doubt about it.

"If you think I approach your execution without remorse, you're mistaken, Mr. Larabee.  I regret not learning more about you."

That grabbed Tanner's attention and he felt his heart begin to race.

"Too damn bad for me.  I've already told you everything I know."

"It's not too late to reconsider.  I will ask you one last time:  Where is the woman?"

"And I still don't know who the hell you're talking about.  I'm just a peacekeeper from Four Corners."

A few moments later, Vin heard the sounds of fists falling on flesh and he knew they were beating Chris again.  He cursed softly, frustrated that there was nothing he could do to help his friend.

"This should feel familiar, doesn't it?" he heard Milton ask.  "A little like your time in Jericho, isn't it?"

That comment scared Vin more than he'd expected.  The colonel must have been spending some of his time finding out about them.  And if he knew Chris had spent time on that work farm, then he probably knew the tracker was wanted, too.

"The warden there had more imagination."

"Form up!" he heard Milton snap angrily in reply.  "It doesn't have to end like this."

"No," Vin whispered harshly, his body beginning to shake.

"'Least I have peace of mind," he heard Chris say.

"Weapons ready!  Be sensible, Larabee, your life doesn't need to be cut short like this."

"Damn fool," Tanner growled, shaking his head.

"Don't I get a blindfold?" he heard Larabee taunt.

"Aim!  What will it be, Larabee?  Cooperation… or death?"

"Cooperation _is_ death, at least with you, Colonel."

"Fire!"

"No!" Tanner cried as the soldiers opened fire.  His hands snapped up, pressing hard over his ears as he tried to shut out the sounds of the rifles being fired.  Chris must be getting cut to shreds.  His empty stomach turned over and he retched several times, although he brought up nothing more than a spoonful of bile.  Still, the effort forced him over and he braced his hands against the wall of his cell to keep from falling to his knees.

"Cease fire!" he heard the colonel yell.

Vin, still shaking all over, panted for breath.  His heart hurt like he'd been shot himself.  But he felt it lurch when he heard the colonel say, "Maybe next time, you'll be willing to see it my way.  Or my soldiers will have improved their aim."

"Go to hell," came Larabee's voice, sounding a little weak.

"Chris?" Vin choked past the lump in his throat.  He closed his eyes, ignoring the few tears that rolled down over his cheeks.  Larabee wasn't dead.

"He's alive," he whispered to himself.  "He's alive…  He's alive…  He's alive…"

The tracker's knees buckled and he dropped to the cold, stone floor and sat there, shaking now with relief.  If he hadn't been so dehydrated, there would have been tears still falling down his face, but they had already dried up.  Still, he reached up as if to wipe them off.

Finding only traces there, he cursed softly and rubbed his face anyway.

"He's alive…  He's alive…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Outside Fort Gila**

**Monday, mid-morning**

 

          The five peacekeepers each lay on a small ridge that overlooked the southwest side of the fort.  From their vantage point, they could see the soldiers going about their duties.  After several hours, they had gotten a feel for the rhythm of the activity and, more importantly, the schedule for the changing of the guards.

          As they lay there on the ground, Buck removed his pocket watch, being careful to keep it cupped in his hand so the sun didn't glint off the metal surface, and checked the time.  "Well, they ought to be getting that wire in Bent Copper anytime now," he said softly.

          Nathan, lying next to the ladies' man, nodded.  "I'm sure Mary sent it on time."

          "Yep," the ladies' man said, nodding.

          And, sure enough, about half an hour later, a man came up to the fort on horseback, riding as hard as he could.  He jerked his mount to a halt, and shouted something the peacekeepers couldn't make out.  The gates were pulled open and a soldier walked out, taking the telegram the man was carrying.  Less than an hour later, a large group of soldiers rode out of the fort in formation, their horses breaking into gallops as soon as they had cleared the walls.

          "Well, so far, so good," JD commented, grinning.

          "Amen, brother," Josiah said.  "But that was the easy part."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Sunday night**

 

After his mock execution, Chris was taken back to the stockade and tossed into the cell with Vin again.  He hit the floor hard and rolled, coming to a stop near the far wall.  One of the soldiers removed the empty water bucket from the tracker's cell, and the door was closed and relocked.

As usual, Vin stayed right where he was, leaning with his back pressed to the cell wall, until the soldiers left, then he quickly crawled over to Chris.

Larabee had stayed right where he was, too, lying on the stone floor, tremors quaking through him as he coughed.

"What's a smart guy like you doin' in a place like this?" he asked Vin when the tracker reached him.

"Thinkin' 'bout goin' back t' bounty huntin'," the tracker said seriously.  "Somethin' stable… 'n' a little less lethal."

Chris snorted and shook his head, smiling thinly as the tracker helped him up to a sitting position.  "We get out of here, I'm gonna swear off captivity as a way to live."

"C'n agree with that," Vin replied, nodding, grateful to see the ordeal hadn't broken the man's spirit.

"You know I'm sorry about this whole thing, don't you?"

"Don't be," Vin said, pulling the man into his arms so Chris could sit and lean back against his chest.  "We had us a good run."

"'M still sorry," Chris said.  "Never got over to Tascosa t' clear your name."

Tanner shrugged, although it had been haunting him as well.  "We'll do it once the others find us 'n' get us th' hell out 'a here."

"Don't think they're gonna find us in time," Chris admitted sadly.

"Sure, they will.  'M gonna kill that colonel if it's the last damn thing I do."

Chris forced out a laugh that was half cough.  "Gonna have t' get in line," he said.

Vin could feel the man's fever building, and silently cursed the soldiers for not leaving them more water.  He tightened his grip on Larabee and said, "Heard y' out there…  Y' reckon next time y' might be able t' keep yerself from proddin' the man?"

"Nope."

Vin chuffed out a laugh at that.  At least Larabee was honest.  "Figgered as much."

"Hey, Vin," Chris said, his tone turning wistful and quiet.

"Yeah?"

"You ever wonder…?"

"What?" the tracker asked, beginning to rub the man's chest.

"Ain't important," Chris replied, reaching up to grab onto Vin's arms and holding on.

Vin frowned, wondering what it was the man had almost said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Monday afternoon**

 

The five peacekeepers slowly worked their way closer to the fort.  It was in sight now; the wash they were moving through was heavily overgrown with brush and the chance of anyone seeing them was remote, but it still made progress slow and tedious.  They continued along, however, moving as silently and steadily as possible.

When they were less than ten yards from the wooden fence that surrounded the buildings inside the compound, they stopped.

"What are we waiting for?" JD asked quietly.  "Let's go."

"You lookin' to get yourself killed, son?" Buck asked him, reaching out to grab his arm.

"We have to wait for it to get dark, JD," Josiah said.

"We go now, they'll cut us down for sure," Nathan added.

JD nodded, but, damn, it was hard to just lie there and wait.  Like the others, he heard the screaming that had begun that morning, and he couldn't help but think it had to be either Chris or Vin, maybe both, and he really didn't want to think about what might be happening to them to make them sound like that.

The piercing sounds had the other peacekeepers on edge as well, but they all knew there was nothing they could do until it got dark.

JD sighed softly and tried to find a position that was somewhat comfortable for the wait, but the action made him feel guilty.  He glanced around at the others, seeing Josiah's eyes were closed, the man's lips moving as he played silently – probably for the souls of the suffering men.  He closed his own eyes and started his own prayers for his friends.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila, Monday morning**

 

The two men heard the stockade door open and, a few moments later, Colonel Milton was standing in front of their cell with two guards.  Chris and Vin sat, huddled together in order to share what warmth they could.

The soldiers entered the cell, this time grabbing Vin and jerking him to his feet.

"What're you doing?" Chris asked, trying to stop them, but one of the soldiers struck him across the face, knocking him to the ground.  "Vin!" he yelled, trying to rise.

Tanner didn't reply, walking out with the soldier, refusing to give them any reason to beat him more than they planned.

In moments they were gone, and Larabee was left alone.

The blond swore softly, but he crawled back to where he'd been sitting.  The ground and the wall were still slightly warm, and he wrapped his arms around himself, cursing the colonel.

Vin never talked about what they did to him, but Larabee suspected it was worse than just the beatings that were obvious to the gunman.

He shook his head, wishing for the hundredth time that he'd told Travis no when he'd asked them to take that woman to Bent Copper.  But he'd known he had to do it.  And Vin had agreed with him.  Hopewell deserved to be brought down.  He just hoped they could do it without the woman.

Leaning his head back against the wall of the cell, Chris closed his eyes and sighed deeply.  His fever was a little better today, and he couldn't help but wonder if that wasn't due to the warmth and companionship of the other man.

He should have asked Vin the question that had been dancing on the tip of his tongue yesterday, but he had been too afraid.  He had no idea how Vin might react, although he doubted the man would hate him.

He huffed out another breath, wishing Milton had taken him instead.  The colonel had to know Vin was wanted, and that gave him an advantage with the tracker.  Not that it was likely to get Tanner to talk.

The woman was safe.  Travis had known he could count on them to see to that.

Travis…  He was going to owe them if they got out of this alive.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila**

**Monday, early evening**

 

Colonel Milton poured himself another drink, then continued eating his dinner at the table that was set up in his office.  Through the open window nearby, the terrible, bloodcurdling screams began again.  He stopped chewing, smiling at the sound.  He knew it wouldn't be long now.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

In his cell, Chris was on his feet, pacing inside the small space.

"Vin!" he yelled as one scream ended on a strange, strangled sound that nearly made the blond's empty stomach turn over.

"Milton!" he bellowed.  "Milton!  You fuckin' bastard!  Leave him alone!  You hear me?  Leave him alone!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

At his table, Milton smiled as he heard the man outside begin begging:  "No, please, stop!  Stop!  Please!  Bastards!  No!  No!"

The screaming returned, louder and more pain-filled than before.

          Milton chuckled and glanced across the room to where Vin Tanner sat, tied into a chair, blindfolded, a gag stuffed into his mouth.  The tracker was fighting the ropes, his wrists gone bloody a while back.

          "Suffers nicely, don't you think?" Milton asked the tracker.

          He couldn't make out the words Tanner was trying to say around the gag, but he could tell from the tone what the breed thought of his "entertainment."

Milton laughed.  "Would you like me to tell you what's being done to the poor bastard?"

          Tanner fought harder, the chair hopping slightly, the legs making an angry, pounding sound on the rough, wood floor.

          But that just made the colonel laugh harder.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          In his cell, Chris raised his hands, pressing them over his ears.  But he couldn't shut out the wrenching screams that continued to fill the air outside the stockade.

"Milton!" Larabee screamed.  "Stop it!  You fucking bastard!  Stop it!  Leave him alone!"  He dropped to his knees, sobs finally breaking free.  It had been going on so long… all day… Vin couldn't possibly survive whatever Milton was doing to him, and it was his fault.  If he hadn't been so stubborn, if he'd just told the man what he'd wanted to know…  But he couldn't.  He couldn't turn an innocent woman over to a man like Milton…

So he'd turned Vin over to him instead?

He curled in on himself, still trying to block out the horrible cries of the tortured man, but it was no use.  Vin had to be dying out there, would die all alone…  He was going to lose someone else he loved…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The five men watched the sun sink slowly toward the horizon.  The screams had gotten progressively weaker, finally becoming so soft that they could no longer really hear them.  Then there was one last cry, and silence.

The five men were all on edge.

"Hell of a life, isn't it," JD commented to Buck.

"Come again?" the ladies' man replied.

"You ever get nervous 'bout doin' things like this?" JD asked him.

Buck thought for a moment, then said, "Ya askin' if I ever get scared, kid?"

JD nodded.  He was scared.  No, he was terrified.  He couldn't imagine what could cause a man to scream like that, and he knew for certain he never wanted to find out.  He didn't want to meet a man who could do that to another man, either.

"Yeah," Buck admitted, "I've been scared a time or two…  Pucker time," he added and the others chuckled softly.

"A man would have to be a fool not to feel fear, JD," Josiah added.

"Fear can be a powerful friend," Nathan agreed, nodding.  "But if it gets the upper hand…"

JD nodded.  "Yeah, well, Mattie did it for me.  I was so scared I couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't even breathe…  Kinda like now."

"Fear keeps you alive," Ezra told him.  "The way I look at it, fear keeps us at the peak of our game, keeps us from becoming brave.  Brave is just… stupid."

"Yep," Buck agreed, nodding, "fear is our friend."

"Love it, feel it, taste it, smell it… embrace it," Josiah picked up.

"So, there you are.  Fear's our mistress, boys," Buck concluded.  "You love her good and hard and she might just keep you alive.  But if you cheat on her, you'll lose, big time.  That's for sure."

The others nodded, each praying the screams didn't return.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The screaming was getting weaker now, and Chris forced himself to uncurl, forced himself to get back on his feet.  His legs were weak, though, and he leaned against the cell wall below the small window.

"Stop," he yelled, but it came out as nothing more than a scratchy rasp, his voice gone from all the yelling he'd been doing.  He slapped his open palm against the cold stones.  "Leave him alone," he begged.  "I'll tell you what you want to know, just leave him alone…  You hear me?  I'll talk… just stop… please…"

A few moments later, the creak of the door opening started Chris shaking.  Two soldiers walked up to his cell and took him out.

"Fucking _bastards_ ," Larabee hissed at the men.

The soldiers ignored him, dragging him along the hallway to the open door of the stockade.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Fort Gila**

**Monday, after dark**

 

The five peacekeepers were moving.  Now dressed in the Army uniforms they had picked up in Bent Copper, they eased into the darkness and sprinted to the wall of the fort, making their way to the section Troutman had told them about.

Buck stopped several times along the way, hiding sticks of dynamite on the ground as he went, JD following along behind him with the roll of fuse.

At the section Troutman had identified, Buck arranged several sticks in the way the engineer had thought would breach the thick wooden barrier.

"Ready?" the ladies' man whispered to the rest.

Four heads nodded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Earlier**

 

Larabee was taken to Milton's office.

"I understand you have something to tell me, Mr. Larabee," the colonel said, his eyes bright with victory.

"Where's Vin?" Chris snarled.

"Back in his cell.  Now, you'll tell me what I want to know, or I'll have him finished off."

"I need some water first," Chris said as he was pressed into a chair across the table from Milton.  The remaining portion of steak left on the man's plate made the blond's stomach ache with hunger.

The colonel gestured and one of the soldiers poured Chris a cup of water and handed it to him.  Larabee took it and drained it in three huge gulps.

"Judge Travis pays us to protect the people in Four Corners," Larabee started.  "Can I have some more water?"

Milton nodded and the soldier filled Chris' cup a second time.

And, once again, Larabee drank it right down.  "We do whatever he tells us to.  He came on Monday, told us to meet a woman at Mesa Ridge and take her to Bent Copper.  We didn't ask why."  He paused and held out his cup, a hopeful if defeated expression on his face.

The soldier looked at the colonel, and when Milton nodded, he refilled it.

Chris emptied it.  When the gunman began to speak again, he started over with Hopewell's trip to Four Corners.

"I don't see the connection," Milton said.  "What happened to the woman you met in Mesa Ridge?"

Chris drew a deep breath, trying as hard as he could to keep the burning hatred he felt for the soldier out of his eyes.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Three soldiers escorted Vin back to his cell.  One opened it and another shoved Tanner inside, while the third stood with his gun drawn to cover the tracker.

          "Where's Larabee?" Vin demanded, whirling around and dropping into a crouch like he might spring and attack the men at any moment.

          "Ain't our concern," one of the soldiers said.

          "What did y' do t' him?" he snarled again, the sounds of the screaming still echoing in his ears.

          "Ya heard the sergeant," one of the privates snapped, "ain't our concern.  Ain't yours, neither."

          Vin threw himself at the bars, just missing the private who had locked the door.  "Y' tell me what y' bastards done t' 'im!"

          "Reckon you'll be finding that out soon enough," the sergeant said.  "'Less ya want to tell me what ya know 'bout that woman."

          Vin stood, his eyes filled with hatred for the men.

          "You tell me what the colonel wants to know, I'll see to it they bring your friend back here before he dies… alone."

          Vin's lips curled back off his teeth in a feral snarl.  "Y' c'n go t' hell, y' fuckin' dogs."  He continued to curse them in Comanche and Kiowa as they turned and left.  "Chris!" he yelled as loudly as he could, but there was only silence in reply.

          He dropped to the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent, tearless sobs.  What had he done?  The least he could do now was be with Larabee at the end.  He owed the man that much, and more.

He wished he could trade places with him, but it was too late to dwell on it now.  Chris was dead or dying and, sooner or later, Milton would be coming for him.

          Well, he'd take what he knew to the grave with him.  There was no way he'd give the bastard the satisfaction of breaking him.  He knew Chris wouldn't break, would die before he put the woman in any danger, and he'd do the same.

          But the screams…

          He shook with a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.  He'd only heard screams like that a couple of times:  among the People, when someone was being slowly tortured to death; in the war, when the wounded were still lying, torn and mangled on the battlefield, waiting for death to come and free them from their agony…

          He never thought he'd hear Chris sound like that.

          He'd lost the man, and before he'd been able to tell him what he meant to him.

He shook his head. _Too damn late…_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"The woman?" Chris echoed, looking slightly confused.  He took another gulp from his cup and then said, "I don't know.  When we got to Mesa Ridge, there was no woman.  Please, can I have some more water?"

Milton sighed heavily and nodded.  This time the soldier just handed Chris the pitcher, which was nearly empty.  Chris accepted it with a grateful expression, but as soon as the soldier released it, he used the heavy container to strike the man as hard as he could, catching him along the side of his head.  The soldier went down in a boneless heap on the floor, and Larabee knew he'd never get up again.

Outside, an explosion sounded, the shockwave quaking through the building.  Milton and Chris were both startled for a moment, then the colonel turned his attention to the gunman, attacking the unarmed peacekeeper, who fought back with the desperation of a man who knew his life hung in the balance.

Raising his arms, Chris protected his head and skittered back to escape another blow the blond knew might fell him.  He was weak and sluggish, and he nearly tripped over the dead corporal lying on the floor.

The colonel moved in on him, and Larabee swore silently that he'd find a way to kill the man – for Vin, who, he had no doubt, was already dead in that cold, dark cell.

 _Too damn late_ , he thought.  He should have told the man, not waited, but it was too late now…

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The five peacekeepers entered the compound through the enormous hole in the wood, heading straight for the stockade, which was right where Troutman had said it would be.  What they saw on the way nearly stopped them dead in their tracks, but, somehow, they pressed on, heading for the most likely place to find Chris and Vin.

A young private stood guard outside the building, looking nervous and scared about the explosions that were still going off all around the fort.

"Private, you see any strangers?" Buck snapped, striding straight up to the boy.

The soldier opened his mouth to reply, but realized the uniform Buck was wearing had no rank insignia.  "Uh, just you… sir?" he said, utterly confused.

Buck stopped right in front of the young man and grinned.  "Nope, ain't no 'sir,'" he said, then drew his gun before the boy could react.  "Open the door, son."

The private hesitated and Josiah, his own gun drawn, moved closer, saying, "Don't make us kill you, son…"

The private turned and unlocked the door with shaking hands.

And, inside, they found Vin inside his cell, dressed in nothing but his filthy long johns.

Buck prodded the soldier he'd led inside with his gun and the young man removed the keys from his belt and unlocked the cell door.

Vin scrambled to his feet, hurrying out.  Buck shoved the private into the cell and closed the door, pulling out the keys and pocketing them.

"Where's Chris?" the ladies' man asked.

"Ain't sure, but if he's still alive, m' money's on the colonel's office."

"Vin, you hurt any?" Nathan asked, noting how frail the tracker looked.

"'M fine," Tanner replied, which immediately told the healer the man was hurt, but he didn't think now was the time for the healer to deal with it.  "This way," the tracker said, his blue eyes as cold and deadly as any of the men had ever seen them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Outside, in the compound, soldiers ran this way and that, horses screamed, and dogs barked as the sticks of dynamite continued to explode as the burning fuse reached them, one by one.

The peacekeepers ran through the chaos, Vin in the lead.

They burst into the outer office that was just outside the room where Chris and Milton continued to fight.  Seeing Vin, the soldier on guard there started to scramble up from his chair, but Josiah felled him with a single blow.  Vin took the soldier's gun, firing with the others as other soldiers came running toward the open door to stop them.

Buck and JD each took a man down, Nathan another with one of his throwing knives when the unlucky private managed to get past the door.

"Hurry up!" Buck yelled, and Ezra went to the door, using the keys from the top of the desk to open the lock to Milton's office.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Inside his office, Milton swung, striking Chris and sending him crashing to the floor.  He drew his gun and held it on the gunman.

"Go ahead," Larabee hissed at him.  "Y' might as well shoot me, because I'm not telling you a damn thing."

"No, not yet, but soon.  I'll make you scream, just like I did your friend.  Guard!" Milton yelled.

The door burst open and Vin stormed in, followed by Ezra and Josiah.  Without the slightest hesitation, Vin raised the gun he was carrying and shot the colonel, twice, but he didn't kill the man.  The officer was, however, rolling on the floor, his hands pressed to the bloody holes the bullets had opened in his belly.

Chris stared at the fallen soldier, stunned by the sudden turn of events, and the ghost he was seeing.  "Vin?" he said, feeling his eyes beginning to sting with absent tears.

"Come on," Vin said, extending his hand and helping Chris to his feet.  The gunman wasn't at all sure what he was seeing was real or not, but he hoped it was.

Chris nodded, letting the tracker help pull him upright.  The two men wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders, each trying to support and be supported by the other as they left the office.

Josiah and Ezra pulled Milton to his feet and forced him out behind the two men, more carrying the colonel than anything.

They left the building, making their way through the confusion even as the last of the dynamite sticks exploded, raining dirt and sand down on them.

"You won't get away with this," Milton snarled, then opened his mouth to call for help.

JD stopped him with a backhanded blow to the man's jaw.

Buick grinned at him.  "Nice job, kid."

"Ain't a kid no more," JD replied, the sight of the two bodies they'd seen still burned brightly into his mind.

Buck reached out, resting his hand on the younger man's shoulder as they followed the others.  _Sure as hell aren't_ , the ladies' man thought.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later, on the trail**

 

Nathan called for a halt as soon as they reached the first outcropping of rocks they could use for cover if pursing soldiers caught up to them.  he then went over to treat Milton's gunshot wounds, but the colonel steadfastly refused his help.

"Suit yourself," the healer said, leaving the man untouched.  He glanced over at Chris and Vin, wishing he could get a better look at both of them, but they had also refused his pleas so far, seemingly in a hurry for reasons other than pursuit.

"Turn yourselves in," Milton gasped to the men as they started off again.  "You don't stand a chance."

"Better one 'n you," Vin replied, a cold smile lifting his lips from his teeth in a decidedly feral smile.  There was so much more he wanted to do to the man, but he knew it would have to wait.  And chances were good the man would be dead before Chris and he made it back.  Still, he knew he would have his revenge.  Colonel Milton would die, in pain… hellacious pain.  The thought kept the frightening smile on the tracker's face as they continued along on foot.

Several minutes later, they reached the waiting horses.  Chris and Vin were given clothes from various saddlebags, and as soon as they were dressed, they all mounted, riding off into the night, Milton tied securely behind Buck on his big grey.

No soldiers seemed to have found their trail, or decided to follow them.  This made sense, since the older, more experienced men had left earlier to follow up on the telegram that had arrived.

After they put several miles between them and the fort, Chris and Vin peeled off, Larabee calling out, "Meet us in Bent Copper.  Room twelve at the hotel.  Tell 'em it's time to go fishing."

"Chris!" Nathan snapped.  "Ya should let me look ya both over!"  But the two men had already disappeared into the darkness.  "Damn stubborn fools," the healer grumbled.

"They'll be all right," Josiah said.

"They're hurt."

"I made sure they each had an extra canteen," JD offered.

Nathan just shook his head, still muttering to himself.

Turning toward Bent Copper, the men rode in silence, pushing their horses as hard as they dared, just in case the Army tried to get their colonel back.

After nearly an hour, Buck could feel Milton beginning to sway behind him.  "Nathan!" he called, pulling his horse up and dismounting.  He reached up and untied the colonel, Milton toppling over and falling to the ground.

Nathan walked over to the man and stared down at him.  "Guess I'll be treatin' those wounds now," he said.  But he already knew there was nothing he could do for the man.  The wounds were fatal ones, but death was still a long way off.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Monday night**

**On the trail**

 

Chris and Vin rode swiftly through the desert for a little over two hours, finally coming to a small Mexican village a few miles south of the border.  During that time, they had drained their canteens and eaten everything they had been given by the others.

They rode through the community, finally coming to a stop outside a house in the countryside.  It was dark and quiet and, given the hour, that wasn't surprising.

Chris swung down and walked to the door, knocking softly three times, then waited and repeated the action.  A few minutes later, the door opened and a young woman stepped out.  "I didn't think you were coming," she said, reaching down to cradle her swollen belly.

"Ran into some trouble," Larabee told her.  "You ready?"

She nodded and turned back, calling, "Elizabeth, get dressed, sweetheart, we have to go now."

Chris and Vin waited for mother and daughter to dress and prepare.  An old Mexican woman who lived in the house made them tortillas and beans, which they wolfed down, along with two cups of goat's milk.

When mother and daughter were ready, they left, the little girl riding in front of Chris on his borrowed horse, the pregnant woman in front of Vin.

There was no conversation, mother and daughter dozing as best they could as they rode along.

Chris studied the child he protected, her red-blond hair reminding him of Sarah's, and he could easily imagine that his wife might have looked like this child when she was seven or eight.  That thought brought a smile to his lips, followed by an expression of wonder.  For the first time he could remember, he'd thought about Sarah and he hadn't felt the usual pang of guilt and sadness.  He wasn't exactly sure why, but he knew understanding would sort itself out in his mind, and he was more than willing to wait.

Glancing over at Vin, he caught the tracker's eye and gave him a small nod.

Relief passed over the tracker's face and Chris realized the man had been waiting to see if Chris was mad at him for what he'd done to Milton.  The blond snorted softly.  Hell, he probably would have just shot the son of a bitch between the eyes.  But this…  This was so much better, really.  Maybe some of the people who had suffered at the man's hands would get their justice after all, or at least a little peace, knowing that the man had suffered just a little of what they had.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Bent Copper**

**Tuesday, late morning**

 

The five peacekeepers and Colonel Milton rode into the small community of Bent Copper, heading straight to the only hotel in town.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor, Buck and Josiah half-dragging, half-carrying the soldier, and walked down to room twelve, the only suite.

Ezra knocked and called out, "Uh, it's time to go fishing."

The door was unlocked and opened and they ushered the colonel inside, where Travis sat, watching as Chris and Vin finished off what had been a good-sized breakfast.

There were several others waiting in the room, as well.

Travis glowered at the dying man and said, "I've heard what you did to these men, Colonel."

"So have I," added another man.

Travis smiled thinly.  "Colonel, Nicholas Shepherd, special prosecutor."

Shepherd nodded to Milton.  "And given that these men were working for my office, at the behest of the President, it means you'll be facing federal charges, Colonel."

Milton choked out a laugh.  "I have nothing to say," he added with a gasp.

"We'll see about that," Travis said, eyes narrowed and stormy.  "Even a dying man has his needs… medicines that can ease the way… if you get my meaning."

And Jacob Milton, being no fool, nodded his understanding.

When Milton had been secured in one of the suite rooms, Nathan went in with the local doctor to offer what help he could and, when he was done, he insisted that the doctor look both Chris and Vin over, as well.

"Fever's holding on," the physician said after he'd checked Chris.  "I'd like you to spend the next couple of days in bed, Mr. Larabee."

The blond didn't look too happy about the suggestion, but he knew he'd reached the end of his strength and he nodded.

The doctor turned to Nathan, adding, "See to it they both get plenty of food and drink, but no alcohol.  If Mr. Larabee's fever worsens, send for me."

The healer nodded, already intending to start both men on some of his medicinal teas, regardless of what they said.

Travis rested his hands on Chris' and Vin's shoulders, saying, "The room across the hall is open.  Why don't you boys go get some rest…"

The two men exchanged a look, then Chris nodded.  They left the suite, pulling the door closed behind them.

Travis glanced around at the others, then said, "They look like hell."

Buck nodded.  "Had a rough time of it."

"Did they tell you what happened?" the judge asked.

"Nope," Josiah replied, adding, "And I don't reckon they will."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Four Corners**

**Monday morning, a week since it all began**

 

Chris and Vin were seated on two chairs that had been placed outside on the balcony of Jackson's clinic.  Nathan was hovering nearby, watching them, but he knew they were both out of danger and Larabee was on the mend once again.

The telltale jingle of tack heralded the early arrival of the stage, and several minutes later, Orin Travis reached the top of the stairs.

"How are you?" he asked the two men as he walked over to join them.

"Fine," Larabee replied for both of them, and they were, even if he hadn't had an opportunity to talk to Vin about what happened at Fort Gila, something he hoped to remedy as soon as Nathan cut them loose.

"I just thought you should know, Hopewell's been indicted on all charges and is on his way to prison – for life."

"It's where he belongs," Larabee replied, nodding somberly.  "And Milton?"

"Died, two days ago," the judge replied, his gaze slipping to Vin for a brief moment.  "I understand he was in a great deal of pain there at the end," he added, a slightly pleased smile on his lips.

Tanner nodded.  "Reckon that's the way it ought t' been."

"I would have to agree, Mr. Tanner," Travis replied.

"How's the girl?" Chris asked, remembering the child who had reminded him of Sarah.

"Well, her mother delivered a healthy baby boy the day before yesterday.  Mother and son – David Vincent Christopher, by the way – are both doing well.  As soon as she's able to travel, they'll all be heading to Catherine's sister's home in St. Louis.  It was the girl's testimony that ensured Hopewell received the life sentence.  It's just a shame we didn't get a hanging out of it."

"You rape a man's wife in front of him, then kill him in cold blood, you deserve to be hanged," Chris said, his voice hard and cold.

"Yes, I agree, but a seven-year-old witness can't stand up to cross-examination the way an adult can.  Still, Elizabeth's testimony was enough to ensure the life sentence.  Hopewell won't be able to hurt anyone else, and neither will Colonel Milton."

"Then it was worth it," Larabee said, nodding again.  David Evans had been one of Hopewell's low-level aides, a happily married man who'd had a daughter and another baby on the way, until Hopewell had gotten drunk and forced himself on Catherine Evans.  David had caught the man, and had been killed.  But Hopewell hadn't known Elizabeth was in the house, or that she had seen what he'd done.

"Y' find out what he done t' whoever was screamin'?" Vin asked the judge.  Those screams had continued to haunt his dreams, and he needed to know what had happened so he could make his peace with it.

Travis nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line of distaste.  He had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could say, "He had two other prisoners tortured and killed.  One had his skin flayed off a little at a time, and the other was impaled on a stake that eventually punctured his heart and killed him."

Both of the peacekeepers paled at the grim news.

"Milton did that to help Hopewell, on Hopewell's orders, and the jury didn't see fit to hang the man?" Chris half-growled at the judge, his anger rising again.

Travis huffed out a sigh and shook his head.  "Couldn't bring it up in court.  They were Mexican Comancheros; not protected under the laws of the Territory."

"They were _men_ ," Vin said thickly.  "Could 'a been us just as easy, probably would 'a been if the boys hadn't come when they did."

"Yes, well, I'm very glad that was _not_ the case, Mr. Tanner."  Travis looked over at Nathan, who had stood, listening to the conversation without comment.  "Are they really all right, Mr. Jackson?"

The healer nodded.  "Chris' fever seems to have broke for good yesterday…  Still need to put a little more meat back on their bones, but they're gonna be just fine."

Travis nodded and then turned to go.  "Oh!" he said and turned back to the two recovering men, his eyes now twinkling with satisfaction.  "I almost forgot.  It seems Hopewell had a network of cronies who did favors for him – up to and including murder.  Horace Vincent, his secretary, was only too happy to trade a list of those men for leniency.  Two names might be of interest you, Mr. Tanner – one Eli Joe, late of Texas, and Sheriff Oscar Reynolds, also of Tascosa."

Vin's eyes rounded with surprise and the front legs of the chair he was leaning back in crashed to the boards as he sat forward.  "Y' mean–?"  He stopped, his mind racing.  Then he looked up at Travis and asked, "What does it mean?"

Travis smiled, his gaze cutting to Larabee, who had already seen the implications.  "It means," the judge said, "that, with a little luck, that murder charge hanging over you in Texas will be lifted shortly.  The special prosecutor is seeing to it himself."

Vin opened his mouth, but closed it again.  He didn't know what to say, so he settled for, "Uh… 'preciate that, Judge, but why?  Ain't no way t' prove I didn't kill Kincaid – not with Eli Joe dead."

"Yes, well, I had Chris tell the special prosecutor what he overheard Eli Joe say, and that, along with your willingness to protect Four Corners, and Mrs. Evans – at great personal cost – was enough to convince him that the charge was spurious.  It was the least of what we owe you both," Travis replied.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment for lunch with my daughter-in-law and my grandson."

"Orin," Chris called before the man reached the steps.  "Thank you."

"No, Chris, thank _you_ , and Mr. Tanner."  And, with a smile, the man turned and headed back down the stairs.

          Nathan, smiling brightly, walked over and shook Vin's hand, saying, "Best news I've heard in I don't know how long."

          Vin didn't know what to say.

          Chris laughed at the man's expression as he leaned forward and slapped him on the knee.  "Guess this calls for a celebration."

          The tracker shook his head.  "Not 'til I have somethin' official in m' hand," he said softly.

          Chris and Nathan exchanged glances.

          "Vin, this is a good thing," the healer said.

          Tanner nodded.  "Cost two men their lives, too.  Paid in ways…  Hell, Nate, y' didn't have to hear 'em screamin'."

          "We heard 'em," the healer said, his voice tight.  "Worst part was… we didn't know if it was one 'a you two or both or not."

          Vin shivered.  "Hell…"

          Nathan nodded.  "Yep, for all of us."

          "Vin, how those men died wasn't your fault," Chris said.  "And Travis is right, it's the least they owe us."

          Vin offered a half shrug in reply, but he settled back in his chair and looked out over the town.  "Reckon we's owed something, that's true enough…"  His heart raced, though, with the thought that he might actually be a free man once more.  "But nobody deserves t' die like that."

          "Milton did."

          That brought a small smile back to Tanner's lips.  "Yer right 'bout that…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

At the bottom of the steps, Travis saw Buck and Josiah were waiting for him.  Buck was frowning.

"We didn't hear no whoops or carryin' on," the ladies' man said.  "You tell Vin?"

"I did," Travis replied.

"It's the cost of those men's lives that has Brother Vin slow to celebrate," Josiah said.

"I believe you're right, Mr. Sanchez," Travis said, pausing for a moment before he asked, "How bad was it for them?"

"Bad enough," Buck replied.  "They still ain't said a word about it to any of us."

"Well, keep an eye on them, and let me know if there's anything I can do."

"We'll do that, Judge," Josiah agreed.

"Just like always," Buck added.

Travis nodded and headed off for his lunch date, passing JD, who came up, Ezra right behind him, both men carrying trays of food for Chris and Vin, compliments of Inez.

The four men climbed the stairs, and the food was delivered.

Chris grinned as he dug into the thick burrito.  "Mmm," he said, "appreciate it, boys."  He looked over at Vin and grinned, adding, "I think I could get used to this."

"Mr. Jackson," the gambler said quickly, "I do believe it's time to cut these two loose, before they are irredeemably spoiled."

"Think ya might be right about that, Ezra," Nathan agreed and the others laughed.

Chris and Vin exchanged brief glances.  The scars would take longer to heal than any of the others knew, but they had survived, and now it looked like Vin might be cleared as well.  That was reason enough to begin to lay the past to rest, at least for Larabee, and he'd see to it Vin felt the same way, too.  Besides, there was some unfinished business between them, and he planned to see that it was settled as well.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          When they finished eating, the others took their trays and dishes and headed back to their own activities, Nathan even returning to the clinic after telling the two men that they were free to go:  "As long as ya use some common sense and take care of yo'selves.  I want ya to take it easy and rest for another week, y' hear me?"

          "We hear you," Chris told him.

          "Ya understand what I mean when I say 'rest'?"

          Larabee chuckled softly.  "Yeah, think we've figure it out by now."

          "Sometimes I ain't so sure," the healer muttered.  "I got some ointment I want ya to take; put it on your wrists couple 'a times a day.  Got some liniment I want you to rub into those bruises, too."

          "Just give me whatever you've got.  Me and Vin are going to head out to my cabin for a few days."

          Vin looked a little surprised by the announcement, but he didn't say anything, waiting until Nathan had gone back inside the clinic to ask, "Y' sure y' want me taggin' along?"

          "Figured we can head out after lunch, ride out the week without this herd of mother hens ridin' herd on us."

          Vin nodded.  "That or we just shoot 'em all now…"

          Chris considered the idea for a moment, then shook his head.  "Naw, we'd just have t' pay for the funerals."

          Vin snorted.  "Says you.  Me, I'd just leave 'em for the coyotes."

          That prompted a laugh from Larabee.  "You're a coldhearted bastard, you know that?"

          Tanner shot him a grin.  "Been told that a few times."

          The two men settled back into silence, remaining where they were, silently watching the activity of the town below.  Nathan returned several minutes later with the medicines, all packed neatly into a leather pouch.  Larabee took it and stood.  He looked down at Vin, saying, "Reckon I'll go get my gear together."

          Tanner nodded and pushed to his feet as well.

          "You just remember what I told you.  Ya both need to rest, not t’ go workin' on that homestead, y'hear?"

          "I hear you," Chris said.

          "And make sure ya take plenty of food along with you," the healer added as he followed the two men to the stairs, watching as they made their way down.

          "Ain't gonna starve," Vin said as he followed Chris.

          Nathan shook his head.  It was useless to pester them anymore.  Either they'd follow his advice or they wouldn't.  But he intended to ride out to Larabee's cabin in a couple of days to check on them – and see which way it went.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the two men took a moment to divide up what needed to be done, then each headed off to complete his tasks.  A little more than three hours later, they met us again at the saloon, where Inez had prepared a large lunch for them, along with a basket of food she had packed when Nathan had stopped by and told her they were headed out of town for a few days.

          "Much obliged," Larabee told her when she set the basket on the table.

          She smiled.  "I hope you will enjoy it."

          "Always enjoy your cookin'," Vin replied, prompting an even larger smile from the woman before she headed back to her other customers.

          The rest of the peacekeepers slowly gathered around the table, enjoying their midday meals with the two men.

          "Buck…" Chris growled in warning when the ladies' man tried to lift the cloth from the top of the basket to see what was underneath.

          "What?" Wilmington asked innocently.

JD rolled his eyes.

          "Leave it alone," Larabee instructed, then shot a look at the others, letting them know that applied to all of them, too.

          "Just smells like there's a pie in there," Buck said, trying to look and sound injured.  "Just wanted to see what kind it was."

          "Why don't y' just ask Inez?" Vin questioned.

          Buck's eyes lit up and he slid out of his chair, heading straight to the bar.  He returned a couple of minutes later, looking more than a little disappointed.

          "So, what is it?" JD asked.

          Buck let out a long sigh.  "Apple."  He looked up, meeting Chris' eyes for a moment.  "My favorite."

          "I thought your favorite was peach," Josiah said.

          "Peach?" JD jumped in.  "He told me his favorite was berry."

          "I distinctly recall Mr. Wilmington stating that _cherry_ was his preferred choice for pie," Ezra told them.

          Buck leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.  He grinned.  "Apple, peach, berry or cherry, they're _all_ my favorites – so long as Inez is the one cookin'."  He turned an earnest expression on his longtime friend.  "So, what d' ya say, stud…  Can I have a piece?  Inez said she only made the one."

          Chris and Vin exchanged a quick look.  "Nope," they replied in unison.

          "No?" Buck responded, looking like he'd been mortally wounded.

          "They need that pie more 'n you do," Nathan told the ladies' man.

          "I know, but I only want a little piece."

          "No such thing as a little piece with you," JD told him.

          Buck shot the kid an indignant glare.

          Chris managed to keep the smile off his face as he said, "Tell ya what, Buck.  If there's any left, we'll bring it back for you."

          Buck looked hopeful for a moment, then his expression fell.  "No chance of that with Vin goin' along."

          The others laughed, and Vin leaned back, looking downright smug.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Half an hour later, the two men were on the road leading in the direction of Larabee's cabin.  They rode in silence until they reached the turnoff and started along the trail leading to the small homestead.

          "Been thinkin'—" Vin began, just as Chris said, "I have something—"

          They broke off and exchanged amused glances.

          "Something on your mind?" Chris asked.

          Tanner nodded.  "Sounds like the same c'n be said 'a you."

          Chris nodded.  He continued on down the trail, his gaze fixed ahead of him.  "Couple of times in that cell…  Thought maybe we weren't going to get out alive, and I had some things I'd never said to you."

          Vin took that in and pondered it for a few moments before he replied.  "Reckon I could say the same."

          "Man gets to thinkin' he's going to die," Larabee continued, "things he never stops to think about come out to haunt him."

          Vin nodded, but he didn't say anything.

          Larabee's head dipped slightly and he peered down at the reins in his hand.  "Realized losing you would leave a pretty damn big hole inside me."

          Vin felt his cheeks turn rosy as he nodded and said, "Reckon I come t' that m'self."

          The two men exchanged embarrassed looks, then lapsed back into silence for the rest of the ride.  When they reached the cabin, they split up, Vin taking care of the horses while Chris carried their gear inside and got the wood in the stove burning.  As soon as he did, he put a pot of coffee on for them.  A few minutes later, Vin joined him inside, the two of them sitting down across from each other at the small table as the sun began to set.

          Vin took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair before he looked over at the blond and said, "You were goin' t' ask me somethin'.  Y' remember what it was?"

          Chris met and held the tracker's eyes as he nodded.

          "Reckon maybe y' need t' ask," Vin added, his usually raspy voice falling so it was almost impossible to hear.

          Chris drew a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from Tanner's.  There was something in the man's eyes that told him Vin was already ahead of him on this.  "Was goin' to ask you if you'd ever wondered if a man could have feelings for another man."

          The tracker held Larabee's eyes as he replied, "Ain't had t' ponder on it…  I know it c'n happen."

          This time Chris pulled his gaze away, looking down at the tabletop.  "Came as something of a surprise to me."

          Vin nodded.  "Ain't common 'mong Whites."

          That brought Chris' head up.  "And it is…?"

          "'Mong some 'a the tribes," Vin said quietly, nodding.

          Chris nodded, more to himself than in response to Vin's comment.  "You saw that, huh?"

          Tanner nodded again.  "Can't live among 'em 'n' not see it," he replied.  "Don't have the same thoughts 'bout layin' t'gether Whites have.  Comes easier fer 'em."

          Chris took that in and lifted his chin so he could meet the man's eyes again.  He could see it, clear as day, and knew he'd been seeing it for a long time.  He'd just been too afraid to think about what it meant, or maybe too embarrassed.  Too ashamed he might be having similar thoughts and feelings.

          It went against everything he'd been taught, but he hadn't held much to convention in the past, and didn't think there was much of a reason to start now – especially not now.  Not when he'd come so close to losing Vin, had thought he _had_ lost him…  It had hit him hard – almost as hard as losing Sarah had, but he'd been through that once and he knew it had killed at least a little bit of his soul.  But the pain had been real – deep and powerful – and it had forced him to take a good hard look at his feelings.  His heart told him he loved the man sitting across the table from him, as unlikely as that might seem to anybody else.

          And he already knew Vin loved him.  He'd seen the truth in the man's eyes for months, but he'd felt the truth when he'd been held in the tracker's arms, heard it when he'd listened to Vin's words of encouragement in that cold, dark cell.  He'd even tasted it in the water Vin had held out for him, one palmful at a time.  And he could smell it now in the slight hint of arousal coming from the other man.

          It made his body thrum, like getting caught out in an open field right before a storm broke.  It quickened his breath and his heart, and made his fingertips tingle.  He wanted to reach out and touch Vin's face, but he was still hesitant… skittish, unsure what the tracker would accept.

          Vin's anxious expression began to shift as he watched Larabee make his decision, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

          That smile sent a shiver of anticipation racing straight to Chris' groin, and the blond had to swallow a soft moan at his body's response.  God, he loved that smile, loved seeing Vin smile – something that was more rare than most folks might think, just like he knew it was for him.  And he wanted to keep Vin smiling the rest of his life.

          But Vin's expression turned decidedly hungry as he said, "Reckon this world's asked fer more 'n its share from us…  Reckon we got a right t' find what happiness we c'n."

          Chris nodded.  "Think you can find it here?"

          "Already have," was the tracker's reply.  "Just didn't reckon you could."

          "Well, you aren't always right, Tanner."

          Vin's smile returned, wider than before.  "Been wrong a time or two," he admitted.  "But this is the first time 'm downright glad about it."

          That prompted a snort of laughter from Larabee.  "Me, too."  He glanced over at the basket Inez had given them and asked, "You hungry?"

          "I c'n eat."

          Chris shivered at the near-purr.  "I'm talkin' food, Tanner."

          "That, too."

          The blond shook his head as he stood and went about setting their dinner out on the table.  And all the while Vin just sat there, watching him, the expression on his face making Chris' pants feel like they were two sizes too small.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The two men ate in companionable silence, the food as good as they knew it would be.  Inez had a real talent when it came to food, and they took their time, enjoying every bite.  When they were done, Chris cleared away the dishes, Vin going out to fetch some water so they could wash them.

          Chris put fresh water on for coffee, and when they had the place put back to rights, they settled in at the table again, this time to enjoy the apple pie and the coffee.

          "Mmm," Vin said as he savored his first bite of the pie.  His eyes closed and he rolled the dessert over his tongue, letting it melt in his mouth.  "Damn, but that's good."

          "Got that right," Larabee replied, his mouth full, too.

          Their first pieces of pie disappeared in no time, seconds cut and on their plates shortly thereafter.  When those were finished, they cleaned up the last of the dishes, washed the coffeepot, and banked the fire in the woodstove.  That done, the two men headed out to the porch, Chris taking a seat on one of the two chairs, Vin opting to sit on the edge of the wooden platform, his feet on the ground.

          Chris lit a cheroot, the odor of the tobacco filling the still night air.

          Above them, stars twinkled, and a thin sliver of moon hung above the hills.  Crickets chirped and a light wind shivered though the brush, bringing with it the scent of the desert.  In the corral, the horses stood nose to tail, dozing.

          The silence didn't separate the two men, but flowed between them like the wind through the night, close, intimate.  They were each aware of the other, and, when they rose to go back inside, it was as one.

          No words were exchanged as they each went about preparing for the night.  Chris looked down at the mattress they had brought out for him while he'd been recovering from a bad fall from his horse several months back, and was grateful he hadn't gotten around to taking it back to town.  It was just what he wanted tonight, and plenty big enough for the two of them.

          He turned, finding Vin standing behind him in his long johns, and felt his mouth go dry.  He had no idea how to be with a man…  And it seemed Vin could read his worry in his eyes, because the tracker stepped up to him and reached out, resting his hand on Chris' shoulder.

          "Ain't hard," Tanner said quietly.  "I'll show y' the way."

          Chris nodded and swallowed hard, his breath already beginning to quicken again.  He turned and walked over, taking off his gun belt, boots and clothes so he was dressed just like Vin was.  He blew out the lamp, casting the cabin into darkness.

          They climbed onto the thick mattress, which rested on a wood and rope frame.  Vin leaned back against the wall and took Chris into his arms, holding him like he had at Fort Gila.  Chris shivered slightly with the memory, but he relaxed against the tracker, letting himself sink into the feeling of being cared for.

          Vin's arms tightened around him, his hands holding on to him like he never planned to let him go.  And that was fine with Larabee.  Right now, the last thing he wanted was for Vin to let go.  He felt safe and… loved.

          That feeling was heightened when Vin inclined his head and pressed a light kiss to the side of Chris' neck.  Larabee closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink deeper into the feelings bubbling up inside of him like water from a spring.  They came fast and hard, and, before he realized it, he was sobbing in the tracker's arms.

          There was some part of himself that watched his breakdown and wondered what the hell he was doing, and another that was caught in the emotional tumult, unable to break free.  Vin rode it out with him, holding him, murmuring words of comfort that washed over him and healed something he hadn't realized needed healing.

          As his emotions settled, he felt Vin begin to press kisses to the cloth that covered his shoulder, before he turned his head and pressed his cheek there.  The tracker's arms tightened around him as he was hugged tightly.  Then Vin turned his head, kissing the side of Larabee's neck again.

When Chris turned his head toward the younger man, Vin kissed his jaw, then sucked the lobe of his ear into his mouth, his teeth nipping playfully.

          "Jesus," Larabee gasped, the move making him squirm.

          Vin's hand began to move then, nimble fingers undoing the buttons on Larabee's shirt and reaching down, tugging the material up until he gave the man no option but to reach down and remove the garment.  Once that obstacle was gone, lips pressed to Chris' shoulder and the back of his neck.  Fingers found the hard nubs on his chest, rubbing, squeezing and pulling before beginning an exploration that took them unerringly to the blond's growing erection, still buried beneath the cloth of his long john bottoms.

          Behind him, Chris could feel Tanner's growing arousal as well.  He wanted to take over, to turn and pull Tanner down onto the bed, kiss him, touch him, love him, but he couldn't get his body to cooperate.  He felt heavy and lethargic, his limbs cumbersome and out of his control.  A tiny buzz of fear rose and immediately fell, lost in the rising tide of need that was washing over him.

          "Vin," he breathed, panting slightly now.  It felt like he'd been running for a long time, and he couldn't quite catch his breath.  The effect was to leave him slightly lightheaded, but he didn't care.  Vin's hands were working a miracle on his body, and he realized that he'd been living some kind of half-life.  Now, even staring into the darkness, he could see things more clearly than he had before, he could hear things he hadn't heard in years, and he could feel things he had never expected to feel again.

He was truly alive again.

          His back arched and he pressed his hips up as Vin's hand slipped beneath his long johns, long fingers curling around his manhood.  Those fingers, so strong and yet so gentle, drew him ever closer to the release his body demanded.  Vin's lips sucked at the sensitive skin of his neck, his teeth sank into his flesh, biting but not hurting, sending a thrill of danger and desire singing through his veins.

          Chris' hips pressed up again when the tracker's thumb pulled his foreskin back and began rubbing over the sensitive head of his cock.

          "Vin," he keened softly, "oh, God…"

          Kisses rained across his back, one hand teased a pebble-hard nub or rubbed over his chest, the other hand continued to attack his cock, all of it sending him racing for a precipice he knew there would be no retreating from.

          "Gonna come," he panted.

          "Want y' t' come," Vin whispered in his ear.  "Want t' feel y' spillin' yer seed into m' hand."

          The words were more than he could stand, and Chris threw his head back, hips bucking as he began to empty himself into Vin's waiting hand.

The orgasm was stronger than anything he'd experienced since Sarah had died, and he cried out with each burst of his seed.  It felt like all the deadness inside him was being expelled along with his come, and his body shook with the force of it.  It was painful and exquisite at the same time, and he wondered briefly if it was anything like giving birth.  But it was rebirth, as old, festering wounds inside him finally cleaned out, cauterized by the heat of Vin's love.

          And when he was finally released from the grip of his orgasm, he slumped back against Vin, gulping for air, trembling all over.  His head tipped forward, his tears returning, flowing silently, effortlessly, down his cheeks to fall onto his semen-soaked clothes.

          Beneath the sodden material, Vin's hand remained, his fingers stroking him, petting him, soothing him.

          He gave in to the cleansing fall of tears, purging himself of the pain, the sadness, the loneliness.  He knew as he did that he wouldn't miss Sarah any less, wouldn't love her any less, but he could finally live again.

          Some time later, he found himself lying on his back.  He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, but he was naked now, his seed cleaned away.  Vin was pressed to his side, the tracker's fingers stroking through his hair.  He tried to open his eyes, but a "Shh, y' sleep now…  I'll be here when y' wake up" stilled the effort.

          "Vin," he managed to rasp out, knowing the man had to be aching.

          "Don't worry," Vin whispered into his ear.  "I came when y' did.  Seein' y' lose yerself t' m' touch like that was too much fer me, Cowboy."

          Chris managed a sated smile at that.  Then he frowned slightly, his eyebrows drawing together above closed eyes.  "You just call me a cowboy?" he asked thickly, sleep tugging at him like an undertow.  He felt more than heard Vin's laugh.

"Yer my cowboy, Cowboy," was the whispered response, the words tickling his ear.

          Chris snuggled into the warmth of the man pressed next to him and sighed contentedly, surrendering the fight and letting the first peaceful sleep in years pull him under.  He knew, as he drifted off, that the nightmares were finally over, and his heart swelled with the love he felt for this man, but he couldn't tell him, too far gone to engage in coherent conversation.

          But Vin knew, he was sure of it.  Vin always knew…

 

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          Vin stared down at the blond, watching as sleep pulled him under.  He smiled, a fully contented expression on his face.  His body felt fulfilled for the first time he could remember, his heart full.  The depth of his feelings for this man sacred the shit out of him, but he didn't care.  He'd take what he'd found, and love Chris for as long as he could.

          Reaching out, he caressed Chris' face, marveling at how the man turned into his touch even in sleep.

          He wasn't sure he understood all the reasons for Larabee's tears, but then, he didn't need to.  What was important was the healing he'd witnessed tonight.

          He looked up, gazing out the window at the sliver of the moon as it rose into the night sky.  "I'll take good care 'a him, Sarah, I swear it," he whispered into the darkness.  And although he couldn't swear to it, he wondered if the soft music of delighted laughter he thought he heard on the night wind wasn't her reply.

 

 

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